


Harry Potter and the Parselmouth Sisters

by archtech88



Series: The Living Horcrux [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 40,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archtech88/pseuds/archtech88
Summary: Mr and Mrs Granger have long come to expect strange happenings from their daughters, Hermione and Rosalina, but when Professor McGonagall comes to their home after letters from an odd school called 'Hogwarts' arrive for their two daughters, their lives take a turn for the fantastic and they must all learn about the nature of the new world they've been thrust into, each in their own way.





	1. The Strange Green Letter

"Mail's here, mum!" said Hermione, sifting through it. "Are you having us on?" she asked upon finding a pair of odd, green envelopes.

"What do you mean?" asked Mrs Granger, not looking up from her magazine.

"It's just that there's a pair of letters for Rosalina and I from a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If it's a joke, it's a very odd one, even for you," said Hermione, passing Rosalina's letter off to her the moment she'd dashed down the stairs.

Rosalina ripped her letter open while Hermione was stilled working on prying up the seal. She stared at it for a moment before speaking.

 _Minnie, I don't think that mum or dad made these. I think that these are legitimate,_  said Rosalina in their secret speak. Rosalina had discovered some time before that she could speak with snakes, and when Hermione realized that her speech was consistent it hadn't been long before they could speak back and forth in their special talk. Hermione still had trouble speaking with actual snakes, but she was getting better. Finley, Rosalina's corn snake, was the easiest still for her to speak with.

 _What, like, from an actual school? There's no such thing as magic, Rosa_ , said Hermione, turning the letter over and reading the list of school materials.

 _I don't see you stopping from reading it_ , said Rosalina.

"Please don't hiss in front of me, girls. It's not polite," said Mrs. Granger without looking up.

"Mum, have you ever heard of a place like this?" asked Rosalina, clutching her letter as tightly as she could when she turned to look at her.

"Heard of a place called what?" asked Mr. Granger from the kitchen.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Hermione and Rosalina at the same time.

"Never heard of it myself. Is it some kind of marketing thing? We've been getting a few odd things in the mail these last few weeks," said Mr. Granger, walking to the entryway between the living room and the kitchen.

"No, it seems like a real letter. It says something about reaching out and asking a school official to come out and explain more if we're interested," said Hermione, glancing down at her letter once more.

"I'm interested. I'd like to hear what they have to say," said Rosalina, reading over her letter once more.

"As am I," said Hermione, meeting eyes with Rosalina.

"Is there a number we could call?" asked Mr. Granger from the kitchen.

"There is, but it's odd," said Hermione, going over to the kitchen at last and handing him her copy of the letter.

"Huh. Well, nothing to do but call it, I suppose," said Mr Granger, taking the letter from his daughter. "Yes, hello, is this the Hogwarts," he glanced down at the letter, "Muggle line? Yes, my daughters received admittance letters. Hermione and Rosalina Granger. Yes, we have free moment."

Mr Granger pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it. "That's odd, it went dead," he said.

There was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" said Rosalina, almost tripping as she ran to open the door.

There in the doorway, dressed in the black of a well kept spinster, stood what was quite possibly the most witchy witch that the Grangers had ever seen.

"Hallo. My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall. You said you had a moment, so I thought I'd take the time to drop by and speak with you about the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said the witch, Professor McGonagall. "May I come in?"

"Certainly," said Mrs Granger from the couch, and suddenly Professor McGonagall was inside, sitting in a chair that had not been there before.

"I'll be direct. Your daughters have great potential to become witches, given the proper training, and Hogwarts is the greatest school of magic in the British Isles. It's sponsored by the Ministry of Magic, so you would only need to worry about purchasing school supplies and uniforms for the upcoming year," said Professor McGonagall, sipping a tea that had only just appeared in her hand.

"Hang on, Ministry of Magic?" said Mr. Granger. "Is that some secret, magical part of the government, or is it independent?"

Professor McGonagall blinked a couple times at this, then answered. "It's independent; we've managed our own affairs for the past few hundred years. Muggles are non-magical humans; you two will hear that term being used quite a bit if you decide to go to Hogwarts."

"What sort of things do they teach at Hogwarts?" asked Rosalina, leaning forward.

"Charms, transfiguration, and potion brewing, among other subjects. You'll receive a comprehensive magical education," said Professor McGonagall.

"What about non-magical subjects? Like, English, math, chemistry, that sort of thing?" asked Hermione. She was one of the quickest students in her classes to grasp new math and chemistry subjects, a fact that did not do much to endear her to her peers.

This was something she did not know, however, as Rosalina had always been quick to leap to her sister's defense, using diplomacy or her fists as needed. Rosalina knew that she could do things to her peers, things that could be called magical, but Hermione didn't like it when she did that so she didn't do it often. She'd tried to do it in secret once, but Hermione still found out somehow and she'd became quite upset with her afterwards, so Rosalina stopped doing that sort of thing. Besides, you could always blame a bruise on someone else.

"Non-magical subjects will be explained to you by your professors as they are needed in their subject matter. As the transfiguration teacher, I make a point of covering at least a little bit of biology and physics, among other things," said Professor McGonagall, and this seemed to satisfy Hermione. "However, there is nothing prohibiting you from studying muggle subject matters outside of your regular classwork if you wish."

"We'd certainly like them to study regular classwork, if that's possible," said Mrs Granger, and Professor McGonagall nodded.

"I can arrange for a tutor, certainly, if you decide that you'd like to attend Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall, sipping her tea.

"How many magical schools are there in Britain? If Hogwarts is the best, then there must be more than one," said Rosalina.

"There are nine such schools in the British Isles, although Hogwarts is the only such school sponsored directly by the Ministry of Magic," said Professor McGonagall. "It is also much more intensive than the other schools of magic as students will spend their school year living at Hogwarts."

"Are there local schools?" asked Mrs Granger. "Do they need to go off to Hogwarts?"

"There are," said Professor McGonagall after a moment, "but we've found that the best learning environment is one where they have the chance to practice their magic each day. At other schools they can only practice in the context of their classes, whereas at Hogwarts they can practice throughout the school year."

"And do you both want to learn about your magic?" asked Mr Granger.

"Of course," said Hermione.

"Absolutely," said Rosalina at the same time.

"And you'd be fine with going away to this school? You'd be gone the whole school year, you know," said Mrs Granger. This reminder was more for Rosalina's benefit than Hermione's, as she could get homesick at the strangest times.

"Not the whole year. You would have the chance to go home during the Christmas and Easter holidays, if you liked," added Professor McGonagall, and Rosalina seemed to relax, a tension that hadn't been noticeable draining out of her.

"Yes, this sounds great!" said Rosalina, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Then it's settled. Hogwarts it is." said Mrs Granger, and both girls cheered.

 _Do you hear that, Minnie? We're going to learn magic!_  hissed Rosalina, bouncing up and down.

 _I know! I'm so excited!_  hissed Hermione, just as bouncy.

Professor McGonagall stared at the two girls, eyes wide but not uncomprehending.

"Is something wrong?" asked Mr Granger.

"Your daughters are Parselmouths, Mr Granger. That is a rare talent for a witch or wizard. An uncommonly rare talent. You should be proud," said Professor McGonagall, shaking her head as if she was trying shake a cobweb out of it.

"What do you mean, Parselmouth? Is that a magic thing?" asked Rosalina, her eyes going wide.

"Indeed. If you've ever spoken with serpents and felt as though they were responding to your words, it is because they were. I don't think we've had a student Parselmouth at Hogwarts since," Professor McGonagall trailed off, and the words she might have said died on her lips. "Well, in any case it is a rare thing."

"Well in that case, Rosalina taught me, so she's the real Parselmouth. I'm not as good at it as she is," said Hermione, blushing.

"Hermione, you're great at it! Professor McGonagall, she's a Parselmouth too, don't let her tell you otherwise," said Rosalina, beaming at her sister.

"You two will certainly objects of curiosity, that much is certain," said Professor McGonagall. "That is, if you decide to share that you're Parselmouths. There is a certain amount of ignorant superstition around Parselmouths in the wizarding community here."

"Nothing too terrible, I would hope," said Mrs Granger, biting her lip.

"I shouldn't think so. It's just something that you should know. I'm sure that there are books about the subject in Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley, if you're curious about the subject," said Professor McGonagall. "That is to say, when you go to buy your schooling supplies you will go to Diagon Alley in London by way of the Leaky Cauldron. Let me provide you with some directions there," added Professor McGonagall, and Mr and Mrs Granger went over to her as she described how to get their magic supplies.

Rosalina and Hermione tried to pay attention, but the idea of going away to magic school was too distracting.

 _Magic! Minnie, magic! We're going to learn about a whole secret magical world!_  said Rosalina, going over and giving Hermione a big hug.  _I always knew that we were special, and this is the clincher! We're going to be great!_

 _The two of us and the whole magical world! This is wonderful!_  said Hermione, hugging her sister just as tightly back.


	2. Diagon Alley

"Odd name for a place, Diagon Alley. I wonder if Diagon means something else to the wizarding community than it does to us muggles," said Mr Granger as they walked through London. He'd taken to using the phrase 'muggles' around the house, at first because it made Hermione and Rosalina giggle each time he said it and then because the habit of it had stuck.

"Found it!" said Hermione a few moments later, pointing out a spot which appeared suddenly obvious to her and Rosalina. Mr and Mrs Granger, though, looked past it, over it, around it. Everywhere but dead on.

"Right there, dad," said Rosalina, fixing her father's head at the Leaky Cauldron. "Between that big book shop and the record store."

Mr Granger looked at both places and nodded. "Right. This is the spot. I'll write that," he began, but Mrs Granger had already pulled out a notebook and was identifying the nearby locations. "Down. Thank you, dear."

"Mmhmm. You better memorize those instructions, Tom my love, for I don't think the Ministry of Magic would take kindly to us mere muggles knowing where they go to socialize," said Mrs Granger, and they both chuckled.

Professor McGonagall had explained the International Statute of Secrecy, wizarding law that forbade the International Wizarding Community for letting the average muggle know about the wizarding world, and it had entered their regular lexicon as readily as 'muggle' had.

"Well, let's go ask for Tom the Barman," said Mr Granger, and, taking one last look at the London street around them, the Grangers stepped into the Leaky Cauldron.

The Leaky Cauldron was like something out of a storybook. Thirteen columns supported the room, each scribed with an assortment of runes, and thirteen large round oak tables were spread out through the establishment. No sign of electricity, as the whole space was illuminated by candles and light with no real source. The whole space was, of course, filled with wizards. Young wizards, old wizards, all united in their desire to drink their cares away.

The most bizarre part of the whole place wasn't the fact that the drink choices floated on words in the air, but rather the odd choices of drink available. There were the bar standards, of course, but there were also things like "Firewhiskey" and "Butterbeer," accenting the strangeness of the place rather than diminishing it.

Mr Granger went up to the bar and in a few moments a large robed wizard wearing an apron came over to him behind the bar.

"Can I help you?" asked the man behind the bar.

"I'm looking for Tom the Barman? I've been told that he can let us into Diagon Alley since my daughters don't have their wands yet. My wife and I are muggles, you see," said Mr Granger.

"Bless my soul, new students, and muggleborns to boot! I'm your man, follow me and I'll get you going," said Tom the Barman, now grinning from ear to ear.

Tom the Barman came out from behind the bar, pulled out his wand, and led them to a brick wall out the back of the bar.

"Do we have to magic our way through the wall?" asked Hermione, eyes wide. "I don't know any magic."

"Ooo, let me try! I've been practicing controlling my magic at home and I'm starting to get the hang of it," said Rosalina, bouncing back and forth on her heels.

"Nothing so fancy, just a tap with of the wand right here," said Tom the Bar, and tapped a brick that seemed no different than any other bar, but with that tap the wall opened up and a row of shops appeared in front of them.

"Enjoy your day, and come back for a meal when you're done," said Tom the Barman. He gave flourish of a bow, then went back into the bar.

The Grangers stepped through the brick gateway and just as suddenly, the wall sealed up behind them.

_I wonder if that's the only thing keeping muggles out. A good sledgehammer could break it down if they really wanted, I bet,_  hissed Rosalina, turning to feel the wall. The wall retreated at her touch, beginning to open up as she got closer and sealing again as she pulled her hand away.

_It's magic, Rosa, they've probably got loads more spells on it to shore it up,_  hissed back Hermione, though she reached out to touch the wall as well, working in tandem with Rosalina to create gaps in the wall.

"Girls, what have I said about hissing in front of your father and I?" said Mrs Granger, one eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, mum," said Hermione and Rosalina, though this didn't do much to dampen their spirits which restored themselves as they looked around Diagon Alley.

Diagon Alley was similar to most streets in terms of the building structures, but other than that it drifted far from what might be considered normal. It had normal places, to be sure, such as an ice cream shop, a book shop, a tailor, what looked to be a normal enough restaurant, and even a bank. But each of those things had an odd sort of wizarding bent, and the other shops were even more bizarre. Eeylops Owl Emporium ("From here to the beyond, we have owls for all occasions!"), Slug and Jiggers Apothecary ("The best potion supplies for the best prices!), Potage's Cauldron Shop ("Get your own self-stirring cauldron!), Quality Quidditch Supplies ("Nimbus 2000 is in stock! Get yours today!") were among the more popular wizarding shops, although they were by no means the strangest ones.

The most interesting shop in view was the Quidditch shop, of course. Professor McGonagall hadn't really explained what quidditch was, just that it was done on broomsticks while flying through the air, but had been enough to get Hermione and Rosalina excited about it.

"We're not buying a broomstick for you, Rosalina. Professor McGonagall said you needed to keep a low profile, and I don't think flying around the neighborhood on a broomstick constitutes keeping a low profile," said Mrs Granger, to sad moans from Rosalina.

"Besides, the letter said that first years couldn't have brooms of their own, so you wouldn't be able to take it to school with you in any case," added Hermione, and Rosalina scowled at her. "I'm just saying," she added with a shrug, wincing a little bit as Rosalina hit her in the shoulder, in a not-unfriendly way.

"There's Gringotts; let's get the exchange out of the way," said Mr Granger and led them up the the bank doors, though none of them really could imagine what they were about to see.

For starters, the bank was filled with goblins, each of whom wore the well tailored suit of a bank worker. None were taller than Hermione's waist, but each one had the air of one who knew exactly what they were doing and would look with disdain on those who didn't.

"Where do we go? Professor McGonagall told us that we could exchange money here, but where?" asked Mr Granger, looking around at each goblin wide-eyed. Professor McGonagall had told them about the goblins of Gringotts bank, but they were utterly alien from anything they'd ever seen before outside of a storybook.

"May I help you?" said a voice from below, and the Grangers looked down as one at the goblin that had approached them.

"Yes, we're looking to exchange some money. We also have some questions about opening an account here, if you have the time for us," said Mrs Granger, filling up the silence before it had time to grow.

The goblin's attitude changed in an instant, and the surly cold look on his face changed into what could only be described as glee.

"But of course we have time for questions. Let me direct you to one of my associates so that he can get on with the business of organizing your account. I assume you are here for schooling supplies, yes? If so, I shall exchange what monies you need so that perhaps this can be taken care of while your other halves go and shop around?" said the goblin, not giving them a chance to respond.

"I can take them to get their books and we can meet there in," began Mr Granger, looking to the goblin as he trailed off.

"An hour should be enough time," said the goblin.

"Meet in an hour at bookstore, then," said Mr Granger, and Mrs Granger smiled.

Mr Granger followed the goblin that had met them over to an exchange counter, where another goblin met with Mrs Granger and began to speak with her about setting up an account, guiding her over to one of the desks they'd noticed coming in.

The oddest thing about the whole experience was the fact that at the end of it they left with a pillowcase full of coins, rather than the large billfold that Mr Granger might have otherwise expected had they not been forewarned by Professor McGonagall.

"Right then! Let's start with your uniforms." said Mr Granger. "Professor McGonagall suggested Madam Malkin's," said Mr Granger. "Oh, come on, the faster we get the boring stuff done the faster we can get to the fun bits," he added upon seeing the downcast looks on Hermione and Rosaline's faces. "Books after, I promise, and we can stay there as long as you like until your mother drags us all out."

The magical nature of the fitting didn't feel odd at all, considering that they'd never had a personalized fitting before. The fact that the measuring tape was floating with a mind of its own and the pins were set into motion with a few flicks from Madam Malkin's wand made it easier for Hermione and Rosalina to accept, in an odd sort of way.

_I feel so odd. I wonder how long it takes for the uniforms to be sewn up,_  hissed Hermione as the measuring tape moved all around her.

_I think it's making them as it measures, see?_  hissed Rosalina back to her, and indeed the fabric seemed to working itself into a mimic of her shape, binding and crafting with a magic that seemed unending.

"Right, that's enough for you two. Here are your uniforms, and I wish you the best of luck at school this year," said Madam Malkin, shooing them out the door a little faster than they'd thought was appropriate the moment their things were done. She barely managed to take payment from Mr Granger, she'd tried to get them out so fast.

"That was odd. One might think that she didn't like us," said Mr Granger, looking up at the shop with a frown. "No matter! Onward to books!" he said with a dramatic flourish at Flourish and Blotts Bookstore.

The Grangers loved books. Reading was a family pastime, and Mr Granger had read to Hermione and Rosalina from his favorites when they were small, making sure to give Gimli a great deep voice when he read Lord of the Rings and Rincewind a wonderful worble when he read Discworld. As such, Flourish and Blotts was like a place out of a dream.

"Do you know what this is, girls? This is a magical bookstore," said Mr Granger, bending down so his head was level with theirs. "You can each pick five extra books in addition to what we need to get for your classes, but that's it."

Hermione and Rosalina squealed and ran into the store, eyes wide. Inside was a veritable cornucopia of magical literature. Each section was organized into the same sorts as muggle books: Self-help, Cookery and Kitchcraft, Fiction, Education. The difference here was that most if not all of the books were of the wizarding variety.

"One Hundred And Fifty Ways to Curse Your Enemies And Amaze Your Friends!" by Finnegan Hughes

"Twelve Spells To Lead To A Better You!" by Grant Webster

"The Light Fantastic" by Terry Pratchett

"Terry Pratchett is a wizard?" asked Mr Granger, taking the book from the shelf and looking it over; it looked just like the one at home, except that the picture on the cover of this one was moving; he could swear that the characters were reacting to him.

"Oh, yes. Famous magical researcher, Mr Pratchett is. I think even the muggles have heard of him," said a shop attendant, a young witch with her hair pulled back into a bun. "We have Neil Gaiman as well, although he's not a wizard. Are you a muggle?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"What? Oh, yes. Here with my daughters, first year at Hogwarts for the both of them. They're getting their school books right now," said Mr Granger, glancing back at the books. "Am I allowed to buy books for myself? All this has made me very curious about the wizarding world and there's nothing like a good book to learn about what's what."

"Well, I'd think so," said the young attendant, tucking a stray lock of red hair behind her ear. "The statute of secrecy says that muggles can't know about magic, but the direct families of wizards can know. Let me ask Mr Blott." The young attendant dashed away, a pair of books clutched to her chest.

"Good little girls don't speak in Parseltongue. If you knew what was good for you, you'd leave it well enough alone."

Mr Granger's ears pricked up at this.

Over by the school books was an older witch, dressed all in pink. Despite this, the woman still managed to look like she'd only just left her cottage in the forest and might have forgotten to take the children out of the stewpot. She rather reminded Mr Granger of a toad.

"Is there something wrong?" said Mr Granger, sweeping in with a smile.

"This woman says we can't talk in Parseltongue! That we're bad for doing it!" said Hermione, near tears.

"That's a language of dark magic, and good little girls don't do things like that," said the toad-like old woman with a smile that felt like it had been pulled onto her face against its will.

"Professor McGonagall from Hogwarts said it was a rare wizarding gift, and that we should be proud of it!" said Rosalina, glaring at the woman.

"Hogwarts could do with a bit more oversight, then," said the toad-like old woman. This time her smile was the smile of one who had a delightful bit of bad news she couldn't wait to share. It fit her face perfectly.

"My daughters can speak however they like. If they want to learn about what they can do, more power to them, and I'd thank you not to interfere where you're not wanted," said Mr Granger, and the little old witch turned to face him.

She puffed up but before she could say anything, the young attendant came rushing over to them.

"You're all in the clear, so far as Mr Blott is concerned. Is everything alright?" asked the young attendant, a frown flickering across her face. She ignored the little old witch.

"Yes, we were just having a discussion with Miss," began Mr Granger, turning to the little old witch.

"Umbridge. Dolores Umbridge," said the witch, giving Mr Granger a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Miss Umbridge about why she shouldn't bother children and how she should retreat back to the forest cottage she came from," said Mr Granger, smiling just as sweetly back at her.

Miss Umbridge blinked a couple times at that, though her smile faded when Rosalina and Hermione began to giggle. They'd loved fairy tales with little old witches in them.

"Right! Miss Umbridge, is there something I can help you with?" asked the shop attendant, stepping between the Grangers and Miss Umbridge and leading her away.

Once she was out of earshot, Mr Granger turned back to Hermione and Rosalina.

"What a terrible old hag. Alright, new plan; you can have as many books as you like, within reason," said Mr Granger, and the girls gave him a big hug.

They spent the next thirty minutes going crazy over the books. Mr Granger picked out history and science books, such as they were. "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," "The Monster Book of Monsters" ("You stroke the spine to open it, see? It's rather clever," said the young attendant when he asked), "The Complete History of the Goblin Wars" ("King Richard seemed to get himself into a lot of trouble with the Goblins, didn't he?" mused Mr Granger as he browsed through it) all ranked on his list of interesting things, and he piled on a few Pratchett books that seemed exclusive to the wizarding world to round out his stack of books.

Hermione, meanwhile, was drawn to spellworking books and the big thick grimoires that they had about spellforms and potions ("Those are a bit advanced, but there's nothing wrong with looking them over and working up to them when you're ready," said the young attendant), along with "Hogwarts, A History," which she had decided to memorize to prepare for school.

Rosalina had found herself in front of the gaming section.

"I didn't know Gary Gygax was a wizard," she said as she gazed with longing upon "Robots and Rockets, Dungeon Master's Guide, Advanced Edition." Next to it were both the "Player's Guide" and the "Monster Manual" books. There were miniatures on the next shelf down, and they looked like they were actually alive.

"I'm actually not sure if he is or not," said the young attendant. "I don't think that he was magical enough to attend any of the wizarding schools, but he seems competent enough to create functional unique spells. He's a bit of an odd duck. Delightful man, though; he's come in a couple times. He's the one who made the spells that enchant the miniatures; those are in this book."

The young attendant peered through the shelves and pulled down "The Complete Guide to Enchanting Miniatures; From Crafting to Painting to Animation, Bring Your Miniatures To Life."

Rosalina looked through the book and was fascinated. It had tips for Robots and Rockets, Dungeons and Dragons, and even for if the reader wanted to use a totally different system. She was hooked.

"Are you excited for school?" asked the young attendant after Rosalina decided on her books, having added a few more Pratchett and bestiaries to her pile as well. "I loved Hogwarts. I was in Hufflepuff House and I made some of my best friends there."

"I think so. I'm nervous about leaving home for so long," said Rosalina, looking around to be sure that her family couldn't hear her. "And I'm afraid I won't be able to protect Hermione from bullies who know magic."

"Well, if you ever need any help, or just want someone to talk to, I'd be happy to write you an owl once you're sorted at Hogwarts," said the young attendant.

"I'd like that," said Rosalina. "How will I know how to write you back, though?"

"Just put my name on the letter and give it to one of the school owls. They deliver the mail. Here, let me write it down," she said, and gave Rosalina her contact info.

"Felicity? That's a nice name. I'm Rosalina."

"Thanks. Yours is nice as well," said Felicity with a smile.

The door jangled open, and Mrs Granger entered the shop, looking a little battered but overall cheerful.

"We're in the wizarding world, now, folks," she said, leaning against Mr Granger, and the whole of them cheered.


	3. Ollivander's

"Is everything alright?" Mrs Granger asked Mr Granger as they left Flourish and Blotts. Hermione and Rosalina had each received a copy of "A History of Parselmouths," by Winston Moore, for free, courtesy of Mr Blott himself, who'd come over to apologize after he heard what happened with Ms Umbridge.

"Some old witch decided to cause trouble. I think they're feeling fine now, though," said Mr Granger, looking up at Rosalina and Hermione, now engrossed in their purchases. "I think we should just let them talk in their special language at home, though. I don't want them to start feeling like there's something wrong with it."

"But we can't understand what they're saying, Tom. I don't want them to seem more out of place than they are," said Mrs Granger, frowning. She'd not objected when they started, but as time went on it seemed as if that was all they spoke when they talked to each other these days.

"Meredith, they're witches. They're going to a school where they're going to learn magic, and there's already a bias against their being able to talk with snakes. I don't want them to think that they're outcasts in the wizarding world, too. They use English when they talk to us, after all. Or we could try to learn their special language. If they're willing," said Mr Granger.

"I suppose. I just want what's best for them," she said.

"That's why we're here, isn't it," said Mr Granger, bumping his wife with his hip.

"I suppose it is," said Mrs Granger, smiling.

They'd decided that the next stop they needed to go to, after having gathered up chests for both girls to keep their new school supplies in, was Ollivander's. The young bookshop attendant, Felicity, had recommended that wands be next on their list. ("Because nothing quite makes a young witch feel like a witch like getting her wand for the first time") As Ollivander's was the best place for it (Indeed, it looked like the only place for it here), off to Ollivander's they went.

"Ollivander's ("Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 BC") was a shabby little shop, piled high with long, thin boxes that left almost no room for anyone to move around in.

"For a famous wandmaker, you'd think that they'd have a bigger shop," said Mr Granger, looking around.

"Perhaps they're happy in their current location. Why move if you're content where you are?" said Mrs Granger.

"The Ollivander family have been located here for the last several hundred years. I do not think that we shall be moving anytime soon. Are you here for your wands?" asked a voice that came from nowhere.

The Grangers as a whole looked around the shop, and only Hermione noticed the little man in the back doorway.

"Are you Mr Ollivander, then?" she asked, and the man stepped into the light.

He was old, older than anyone she'd ever seen. Wizened, silver-haired and bent with age, wearing a fine tailored robe that made it seem as if he'd escaped the pages of Conan the Barbarian only moments before, he looked like a wizard's wizard in the same way Professor McGonagall was a witch's witch.

"I am. Might I know who I am aiding in their path to magical potency? It helps the selection process," said Mr Ollivander, looking over the Grangers like they were some new kind of insect he could study.

"My name is Hermione Granger. How do you do," said Hermione, curtsying.

"And I'm Rosalina Granger. Hello," said Rosalina, bowing.

"No. You're not," said Mr Ollivander. "Your first name may be Rosalina, but you are no Granger." He didn't say that with malice in his voice. It was said as something that was just true, like saying that the sky was blue or that water was wet.

"I'm adopted, if that's what you mean, I know that, but I'm a Granger," said Rosalina, her eyes narrowing.

Mr Ollivander looked her up and down, then smiled. "So you are, then. Which arm is your wand arm?" asked Mr Ollivander, bouncing back to his field of expertise.

"We're right handed," said Hermione, and they held out their arms. With a flick of a wand, a ruler began to measure them out, and that was that.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons, among other substances. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand," said Mr Ollivander, slipping into what Mr Granger recognized as 'the zone.' Mrs Granger and he had talks like this that they gave to new patients, and this was clearly Mr Ollivander's. While he spoke, Mr Ollivander pulled down a host of boxes and aligned them in front of Hermione and Rosalina. He'd sometimes a particular box and set it back where he'd gotten it from until he had a healthy selection set aside for them.

"Let's start with you, Ms Hermione. How about, oh, maple and phoenix feather, 7 and a quarter inches," said Mr Ollivander, though he snatched it away from her almost the moment he handed it to her. "No, that won't do. Holly and dragon heartstring, 9 inches, perhaps? No," snatching this away as well. "Perhaps … hmm. Why do you want to be a witch, Ms Hermione?" asked Mr Ollivander, poking around through the boxes he'd set aside.

"I think that if I wasn't a witch I'd waste my talents," said Hermione

"Not enough. Here, try Holly and unicorn, 11 inches," said Mr Ollivander. "Wizardborn children want it because it's all they know. Some want it to escape. Why do you want it?"

"Because I want to know more," said Hermione, after a moment of thought. "I can learn science and math and logic, but this lets me know more. I want to help others, too, I suppose. Magic could help me do that."

"Interesting," said Mr Ollivander, and he pulled down another box. "Try this. Vinewood and dragon heartstring, 10 and three quarter inches."

Hermione flicked the wand and it shot out a stream of sparks, and her eyes went wide.  _I did that! Rosa, I did that! I did magic!_  hissed Hermione. "Sorry mum," she said a bit after. "But look, I did that! I felt it do it!"

Mr Ollivander's face broke into a smile. "Splendid. It seems that your wand has found you. The wand chooses the witch, Ms Hermione. Never forget that. It wanted you as much as you wanted it. Now," Mr Ollivander turned to Rosalina, "Let's find what speaks to you, shall we? Let's start with the Holly and unicorn," said Mr Ollivander, handing her the wand that Hermione hadn't managed to use.

"Don't you want to know why I want to be a witch?" asked Rosalina, flicking the wand to no effect.

"No. You want power, and magic will give it to you," said Mr Ollivander, snatching the wand away.

"Hey now, what kind of thing is that to say?" asked Mrs Granger, puffing up like a goose that's just seen someone go too close to her goslings.

Mr Granger had been watching Hermione play with her wand, so they missed what Mr Ollivander had said, but heard the anger in Mrs Granger's voice and so turned their glares on him as well.

"I want to protect people!" said Rosalina, "and magic will help me do that."

"But the desire for power is there. If your parents are who I think they are, you have a drive to get power. No matter, let's try something unique. You want to protect people. Let's try, oh, Rowan and unicorn, 5 and ⅞ inches," said Mr Ollivander, drifting past their fury like a feather in a windstorm.

Rosalina flicked the wand, and again it did nothing. Mr Ollivander's eyes brightened, though, as if he'd seen something he hadn't expected.

"Progress, progress. Oak and dragon heartstring, 8 and one quarter inches? No," said Mr Ollivander, snatching the wand away almost as quick as he gave it to her. "Perhaps, oh, something odd. Something different." Mr Ollivander went back into a back room and came back out with a box that seemed to be no different than any of the other boxes he'd pulled down. Longer, perhaps, but no different than that.

"Elderwood and thestral tail hair. Fifteen inches. Give it a go," said Mr Ollivander, his eyes wide, though the brief excitement left as soon as it passed over his face like a wind over a lake when it became clear that this did as much for Rosalina as the other wands had done "Too much to ask for, I suppose. Try this one. Rowan and thestral tail hair, twelve inches."

The wand shot of a string of sparks as soon as Rosalina picked it up, and she grinned.  _Hermione, look! I'm doing magic too! We're magic!_  hissed Rosalina, and she waved her wand around, shooting sparks around Mr Ollivander's shop for a few moments before putting it by her side.

Mr Ollivander smiled at her. "I'm glad we found it for you. Remember, Ms Rosalina, the wand chooses the witch. Remember that, the both of you. No other wand you use will ever work as well for you as this one."

"Mr Granger settled up with Mr Ollivander, giving him a little piece of his mind as he did so, though his words seemed to only roll off of Mr Ollivander, who nodded and smiled in a way that said 'I am doing this because you are a customer and I will forget this interaction once you leave.'

As they spoke, Rosalina and Hermione looked down at their wands, holding them out and admiring them every so often, like they were a part of themselves that they'd only just noticed.

"Your father doesn't know this, yet, but we're going to spend the night at the Leaky Cauldron," said Mrs Granger, speaking in hushed tones as she bent down to talk to them. "Professor McGonagall told us that you weren't to do magic at home, but since that wouldn't be home, well," and Mrs Granger shrugged, "I don't see the harm. Oh, and as of now I promise to stay off you both when you use your special language. It's a rare gift, after all, and the only way to master it is to use it."

Hermione and Rosalina squealed and gave their mother a big hug, trying their best to not jab her with their new wands.


	4. The Boy Who Lived

The rest of the day reasonably uneventful, comparatively speaking. They got their cauldrons, their potion supplies for the year ("We're not buying a Unicorn horn, Tom, honestly. What would we do with it?" said Mrs Granger when Mr Granger picked it up), and even an owl.

"You're letting us take an owl to school?" said Rosalina, looking from owl to owl as they walked towards the shop.

"We're keeping an owl at home. It seems more practical than trying to figure out how to reach you at Hogwarts if we want to send you each letters while you're at school," said Mrs Granger, who'd always wanted a bird but had been shot down by Mr Granger each time she'd brought it up until now.

" I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'," said a giant of a man entering Eeylops Owl Emporium at the same time. At his side was a bespeckled, black haired boy who didn't even reach the man's waist. The boy couldn't have been older than Rosalina.

"See! They'd be useful to have at school, please can't we get an owl for school?" asked Rosalina, eyes shining with excitement.

"No; one owl is enough," said Mr Granger, and Hermione and Rosalina groaned.

Mrs Granger didn't groan because she knew what a victory she'd won with just one owl; getting two owls would have been entirely out of the question.

There were owls in every part of the room, and the whole places was filled with silence but for the occasional hoot as each owl turned to look at the newcomers to the store.

Mr and Mrs Granger drifted over to the smaller owls at first, as they were the cutest ones, but the giant was more than happy to give them advice on which owls were good for letters and packages. ("Bigger is better, I say. You'll want one that can carry packages too, in case yer wantin' to send em some treats from home")

Rosalina and Hermione drifted around the store on their own, looking at larger, more majestic owls that their parents would never consider.

They ran into the boy as he was looking over a beautiful snowy owl, his eyes wide with joy as it hooted at him. They stood next to him for a moment before Rosalina found words to speak.

"Your dad must be the biggest man I've ever seen," she said to the boy, who didn't react to this at first.

"Oh, that's not my dad. That's Hagrid; he's the groundskeeper at Hogwarts," said the boy, reaching out his hand to pet the feathers of the snowy owl, which it permitted.

"You go to Hogwarts too, then? I heard it's the very best when it comes to magical education," said Hermione, excited to share what little she knew about the school. "Rosalina and I are only just starting this year, but we're so excited!"

"I'm Rosalina," said Rosalina, moving closer to the boy. "In case you were wondering."

"I'm Hermione," said Hermione, moving to the other side of the boy to take a look at the snowy owl.

"I'm Harry," said the boy, reaching up to his forehead and pulling his hair down over his brow as best he could.

Rosalina took note of this and tried to figure out what he was hiding up there and noticed an odd mark.

"That's a funny scratch you've got there. It almost looks like a lightning bolt. Mine only ever look like lines," said Rosalina, leaning in to take a better look.

"It's a scar. I've had it forever," said Harry, moving back away from her as she moved in closer. "I guess you're not from a wizarding family, then?" he asked after a bit.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Rosalina, stepping back at last. Turning to Hermione she hissed,  _I hope all wizards and witches aren't as rude as the ones we've met today_.

_Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude! It's just that all the wizards I've met look at me like I've done some great thing because I've got a funny scar, and it makes me feel odd. It's nice to talk to people who don't know who I am, that's all_ , hissed Harry to Rosalina, his face flushing red.

_Do you understand what I'm saying, then?_  hissed Hermione, her eyes wide.

_Yes? Should I not? I mean, you're talking right in front of me._

The sisters exchanged a look of confusion.

_You're the first person we've ever met who can talk like we can, that's all,_  hissed Hermione.  _How did you learn? Or have you just always known, like Rosalina?_

_I'm sorry, but what?_  "What do you mean?" said Harry, switching back to regular speech midhiss.

"You're a Parselmouth! That's what Professor McGonagall said it was, at least. She came to visit us at our home. She's from Hogwarts too," said Rosalina. "Although not a very good one, if you switch the way you do. You need practice."

"I'm a what?" said Harry, staring at Rosalina.

"A Parselmouth. You can can talk like we can, and talk to snakes, and such," said Hermione, nodding a bit as she spoke as if the explanation made it all clear.

"That would explain the zoo, then," said Harry. "I spoke to a python at the zoo and accidentally set it on my cousin. Well, it nipped at him, anyway. It's not like I'd planned to set it on him, though! It just happened to work out that way."

The snowy owl nudged Harry's hand, as he'd stopped petting it, and he started again.

"Did he deserve it, your cousin?" asked Rosalina, leaning in again.

"Oh yeah. I mean, I got, well, I was punished for it, but yeah. He deserved it," said Harry with a nod.

"Excellent! Well done!" said Rosalina. "Is this your first year as well? At Hogwarts, I mean."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. That's why Hagrid's helping me out with my school things, I think. I only just got my letter yesterday. My uncle kept it from me for a while, and Hagrid was the one who delivered it. He rowed it out to an island in the middle of nowhere to get it to me, and burst through the door right at midnight! It was wicked."

"Why were you out on an island in the middle of nowhere? Do you live out on island in the middle of nowhere?" asked Rosalina.

"Oh no! We live in Surrey. My uncle really didn't want me to go to Hogwarts so we went on something of a road trip to escape them. Hogwarts is really great at delivering letters, though, so it didn't do him much good," said Harry.

"Your relatives all sound awful! How can you stand them?" asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "I've managed so far. It'll be nice to go off to Hogwarts away from them. A whole nine months away from the Dursleys will be a paradise,"

"We should be penpals until school starts! Write letters via owl until we can meet at Hogwarts! We could keep you sane," said Rosalina, eyes shining.

"That's brilliant! They can't stop that, I bet," said Harry. He took a step back from the snowy owl and it decided to drift to his shoulder, nuzzling up against him. "Looks like I found my owl! I think she likes me." Harry reached a hand up to scratch her again and she leaned into it.

"We should probably find our parents. I think that all we need is each other's names if we want to send letters via owl. They use magic to just know how to find us, is what I understand it to be," said Rosalina. "Come on, you can meet them!" and she more or less dragged Harry over to their parents.

Mrs Granger was, at the moment, holding at a short-eared owl. She had the biggest grin on her face that Rosalina and Hermione had ever seen, and the owl seemed as happy to be with her as Harry's was with him.

"Girls, this is Helena. She's going to be our family owl," said Mrs Granger, beaming. Helena hooted and leaned into Mrs Granger. "Thank you again, Mister Hagrid."

"Oh, it's just Hagrid. And I'm happy to've helped," said Hagrid "It's'a good owl for a family o' muggles. Won't get much notice from other muggles, I should think."

"Should I put this owl back, then? I don't want to have to worry about people seeing her," said Harry, his shoulders slumping.

"Wha? No, that owl's lovely! A perfect owl for you. You like her, right?" asked Hagrid.

"She's gorgeous!" said Harry, looking at her again, a faint smile crossing his face.

"Then that's the owl for you! Happy birthday, Harry!" said Hagrid.

"It's your birthday? Oh, happy birthday!" said Rosalina. "You should join us for dinner!"

"I don't … " began Mr Granger.

"That sounds like a splendid idea! Mister, I mean, Hagrid, would the two of you care to join us for dinner?" asked Mrs Granger.

"Oh, I think I could make some room for dinner. It'd have to be an early dinner; I need to get Harry back to his aunt and uncle at some point," said Hagrid, scratching behind his neck.

"Don't remind me," muttered Harry, and his cheerful demeanor darkened.

"Way o' the world, 'Arry. It's only a few more weeks, then you're free of 'em for the whole school year!" said Hagrid, giving Harry a pat on the back that sent him stumbling forward a couple steps, although this did seem to cheer him up.

They drifted with Harry and Hagrid for the remainder of the day, Hagrid telling Mr and Mrs Granger about the things they should expect from the wizarding world while Hermione and Rosalina spoke with Harry about school.

"I can't wait to get a chance to really dig into our school books, I bet they're just wonderful!" said Hermione, beaming.

"Hermione's a bit obsessed; I think she plan to memorize them all before school starts. I tried to tell mum and dad to just get one set of books because Hermione would just memorize them all anyway, but they wouldn't hear it," said Rosalina, and Harry chuckled while Hermione flushed red.

"And what's wrong with getting ahead? You won't start thinking about your till class starts, and then you'll just ask me for help!" said Hermione.

"It's like you can read my mind, Hermione, how do you do it?" said Rosalina, leering at her sister. "I mean you could leave me to my own devices and just watch my grades fall to pieces … "

Hermione clutched a hand to her heart and swooned. "Perish the thought! My sister won't fail her classes; what would it do to my reputation?"

Rosalina and Hermione laughed at this, and Harry grinned.

"Is this what normal family is like? Teasing and stuff? Dudley teases me, but it isn't nearly as fun as what you two do," said Harry, his grin fading just a touch.

"And bickering, and beating up people, yeah. Although soon I'll be able to just curse people!" said Rosalina, striking a pose and pointing her wand at a lightpost. "Watch out world! Rosalina and Hermione Granger are coming for you, so you better play nice!"

"I better not hear about your cursing anyone! If you can't use your words …" began Mrs Granger.

"Then you've already lost the fight," finished Rosalina, who put her wand away.

"And if we've heard about it, then you didn't do it right in any case," added Mr Granger, which earned him a punch in the arm from Mrs Granger; this did nothing to quell the grin that slide onto his face.

"Tom! Don't encourage them!" said Mrs Granger, although the anger was half-hearted.

"Your family is wicked," said Harry, and Hermione and Rosalina nodded in agreement.

"The best," said Rosalina and Hermione as one.


	5. Dinner with the Grangers

It was a quiet dinner, and they'd taken the time to enjoy it. Well, not quite 'quiet' exactly. There was talking, and the Grangers put on 'the show' that made them popular with their daughters' friends; that sense that they were clever and witty and fun that wasn't there when it was just them.

No, it was more that Harry Potter's ever-present fanbase wasn't watching their every move. It had taken Mrs Granger only a few moments after meeting him to realize that everyone was watching them as they moved. Hermione and Rosalina had attracted attention whenever people realized that they were Parselmouths. Harry Potter, meanwhile, attracted attention just for existing.

Hagrid, bless him, hadn't noticed anyone, because he was too busy making sure Harry was having a fun time, while Harry himself was too distracted by same the things that grabbed Hermione's, Rosalina's, and Mr Granger's attention. So it was only Mrs Granger that thought to ask for a private booth when they went to dinner.

"Thank you for dinner, Mr and Mrs Granger. It was wonderful," said Harry, leaning back in his chair and grinning.

"Oh, it was our treat. I'm just glad you indulged us in joining us for dinner. I know you've had a busy day and have a bit of a trek back home," said Mrs Granger.

"Well, it was a delight. You folk might be the nicest muggles I've ever met," said Hagrid. They'd had to transfigure the chair to fit his frame, but Hermione, Rosalina, Harry and Mr Granger had only been too eager to watch magic at work. "Most muggles get skittish around me fer some reason."

"How odd," said Mr Granger, who'd had a wonderful conversation with Hagrid about magical creatures. ("Ain't nothin' in Loch Ness 'cept fish, so fars' I know. It's them other Lochs you need to watch out fer").

"And to think, you met the worst muggles in the world yesterday. Well, this morning, I suppose. I wonder what would happen if we met? Nice and Anti-nice muggles, all in one chaotic mess," said Mrs Granger, and Hermione giggled. Rosalina just stared.

"We'd have to look out, though. I bet they'd be after the Anti-nice equation, so that they could rule the universe," said Mr Granger, grinning. No one reacted. "Oh, come on, that was a good one!"

"No, dad. It wasn't. It was really bad," said Rosalina, shaking her head.

"You'll laugh at them when you get older. Maybe they're just too sophisticated for you right now," said Mr Granger, putting on airs.

"Lies, all lies," mouthed Mrs Granger to Hermione, Rosalina and Harry. "They're just bad," and they laughed.

"What are you … oh, I see how it is. Maybe none of you understand my fine taste," said Mr Granger, crossing his arms, though it wasn't long before a smile cracked onto his face and soon he was laughing too.

"I once knew a wizard who said he was cursed to tell puns all the time. Looking back, though, I think he was just an odd duck," said Hagrid. "It was amazing, really. Puns all the time, none of 'em any good. You'd think he'd get one right every so often, but they all just made you groan. Poor blighter."

"How do you know he wasn't cursed?" asked Hermione, leaning towards Hagrid.

"If he was cursed, he wouldn't've told bad puns like that all the time cause he would have gotten it fixed at St Mungo's as soon as he could. Else, he was cursed and didn't mind it, which still would've made 'em an odd duck," said Hagrid.

"St Mungo's? What's that?" asked Mrs Granger.

"Oh, that's the wizard hospital. For magical diseases and dangerous ailments. If you find yerself with dragonpox or skin cancer, you get yerself to St Mungo's and they'll patch you right up," said Hagrid. He blinked a couple of times at that, as if he hadn't expected those words to really come out of his mouth. "I shouldn't've said that. Forget what I said."

"Magical diseases? Cancer cures?" asked Mrs Granger, leaning in.

"Look, there's a reason there's a statute of secrecy. Won't do you any good wanting things that can't be given without memory alterations," said Hagrid. "They go in deep with them alterations, and deep changes can be tricky things."

"I could handle a deep change if it meant curing cancer," said Mrs Granger, a layer of ice entering her voice.

"Even if that change was your magical daughters?" said Hagrid, and Mrs Granger's anger melted. "They can do that. Take the whole memory of them away. Make you think you never had children, never found out about magic, and send you off to where you can't do anyone any harm. It's not nice, and I don't stand for it meself, but it can be done. Magic isn't a toy; that's why Harry, Hermione, and Rosalina need schooling. So that they can control what they can do."

"I'd … I'd … I don't know what I'd do, but I'd do something nasty to someone who thought that they could just make mum and dad forget about me, whatever their logic was. That's just not right," said Rosalina.

"You said it," agreed Hermione, nodding. "But in any case, just think of what's been done because there wasn't magic to help. I doubt muggles would have been to the moon if they'd not learned science because magic made things easier."

"Muggles have been to where?" asked Hagrid, eyes going wide.

"The moon! Well, the Americans went to the moon. The Soviets just went into space," said Hermione, smiling at Hagrid.

"Why?"

"Because it was there!" said Mr Granger, as if that explained everything.

"You crazy buggers!" said Hagrid, grinning despite himself. "I know a wizard that you'd get along with just fine, I guarantee it."

The conversation moved to safer topics from there, such as favorite songs, and dessert ("It's your birthday, Harry, you have to have a special treat for your birthday!" said Rosalina while eyeing a slice of cake in the menu), until the time came for Harry and Hagrid to leave.

"It's been wonderful meeting you both. Harry, I wish you the best of luck with the rest of your summer and I hope we'll see you at King's Cross in September," said Mrs Granger, giving Harry a hug as they left the restaurant.

Harry returned the hug, something which seemed to be a rare opportunity for him.

"Thank you again! Today has been wonderful!" said Harry, giving Mrs Granger a squeeze before letting go.

"We're going to write you loads of letters, and if they try to stop us we'll send them letters, in really embarrassing places!" said Rosalina, hugging Harry as soon as he was free.

"We could meet up sometime and study for school before it starts, if you're interested," said Hermione, not hugging him because she wasn't quite the type.

"I wouldn't mind meeting up over the summer! It'd be wonderful meeting with other wizarding folk before the Dursleys drive me up the wall," said Harry.

"We'll make to sure to make that happen. Hagrid, it has been a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to talking you in the future," said Mr Granger.

"Certainly! Meredith, thank you for having us with your family for dinner, it was a real treat. Harry, if you've said your goodbyes, we'll be on our way back to the Dursleys," said Hagrid, and with that, Harry and Hagrid gave a little wave and left for the entrance to Diagon Alley.

"They seem nice enough. It's getting late, though. I think we should head back to … " and Mr Granger turned to Mrs Granger.

"The Leaky Cauldron. Hagrid had mentioned that they usually have rooms and space available. What do you think, girls?" asked Mrs Granger, only to be met with excited noises from the pair of them.


	6. A Night at the Leaky Cauldron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on Mr and Mrs Granger

"Well, Rosalina and Hermione seem perfectly content to stay in and play with their magic; shall we go and get a drink, my love?" asked Tom Granger, giving his wife a kiss.

"I think that would be a splendid idea. I'd love to find out what firewhiskey is. It sounds like something with cinnamon," said Meredith Granger, eyeing the bar as they walked down the stairs.

The Leaky Cauldron seemed significantly more cramped than it had when they'd arrived earlier that day, which made sense, as evenings were when folk came out to play. There were several folk who were still there from that morning, but a number of the shopkeepers and patrons of Diagon Alley had drifted in as well. The bar itself, therefore, was more than a little crowded when Meredith and Tom went up to order their drinks.

"So, a pair of Firewhiskey shots to start with, just to see how the wizarding world drinks?" asked Tom, glancing at the drinks menu, then to Meredith.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll go see if I can find us a table," said Meredith, looking out over the mass of tables occupied by witches and wizards.

Tom worked his way over to the bar, finding that it wasn't nearly so crowded as it had first appeared to be. He only needed to wait a few minutes to order, standing politely as Tom the Barman served the wizards at the bar.

"What can I do you for?" asked Tom the Barman when he made his way over to Tom.

"A pair of firewhiskeys, served as you best recommend. My wife and I haven't had them before," said Tom, placing the proper amount on the bartop to pay for them.

Tom squinted at him, then brightened. "You came in earlier, with your family! To buy school supplies! Did you slip down to have a drink on your own, or …"

"The missus is finding a table for us at the moment. Wouldn't dream of having wizard drinks for the first time without her," said Tom, smiling.

"Well, in that case, let me be the first in welcoming you to the wizarding world! You know what, drinks on the house tonight," said Tom the Barman, pushing his coins back to him.

"Well, thank you! That's very kind. I'm Tom, by the way," he said, reaching out a hand over the bar.

"Nice to meet you! I'm Tom as well. Nice to meet another fine carrier of a fine name," said Tom the Barman, and they grinned at each other. "So, just the firewhiskeys for now?"

"I think so. The plan is to work our way through the various wizarding drinks, see which ones we like and what makes them different from muggle drinks," said Tom, looking up at the menu again.

"Well, allow me to be your guru. Firewhiskey gives you confidence. Magically induced confidence, that is, not counting what the alcohol does," said Tom the Barman, getting out a pair of glasses and pouring.

"No magic pouring? I'm a little surprised," said Tom, eyeing Tom the Barman.

Tom the Barman shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a traditionalist. Enjoy the drinks, and let me know if you want to move on from the firewhiskeys after those glasses."

Tom nodded, and worked his way out to find Meredith.

Meredith, for her part, had discovered an open space at a table with Felicity, the bookstore attendant that had helped them find books on magic.

"Oh, Dolores Umbridge is a nightmare on a power trip. I'm just sorry they had to meet her on their first time into Diagon Alley. I knew that she was horrible about 'half-bloods,' which is an awful term in and of itself, but I had no idea she would spout that nonsense to children," said Felicity, leaning in over a drink to Meredith, who was nodding along.

"We have them like that too, I guess I just thought that wizards didn't get those sort of nutters," said Meredith.

"Oh, we do. Maybe not the same kind of nutters, but ours have even stranger things to be nutty about," said Felicity, taking a hefty swig of the drink in front of her.

Meredith looked up at Tom and smiled. "You found us! I was beginning to wonder. You remember Felicity from Flourish and Blott's, don't you?"

"That I do! I appreciate your help with Ms Umbridge," said Tom, sliding into an open seat at the table and passing Meredith her drink. "This is firewhiskey. Tom the Barman says it gives magical confidence. I don't know why whiskey confidence isn't enough, and I have to wonder if putting more courage into alcohol is really the wisest thing …"

"But it still is a damn fine whiskey, no mistake about it," finished Felicity. "I don't think we've properly introduced ourselves. I'm Felicity Smith," she said, smiling.

"Tom Granger," said Tom, returning the smile. "Thank you for your help earlier today. I don't think I'd have gotten any of the books I did if you hadn't been there to suggest them."

Felicity tucked a rogue hair behind her ear and grinned. "To be honest, you lot were sort of a dream come true for me. I mean, you bought 'The Monster Book of Monsters,' which is a wonderful book about monstrous beasts but no one seems to want it. You two were probably the highlight of my day."

"Oh, that's been a real delight! It eats paper, did you know? I don't know where the paper goes, but I bet if we feed it enough we'll find out," said Tom with a manic grin.

"We should try giving it ink as well! Maybe it'll get more pages, or grow bigger somehow!" said Meredith.

Felicity looked back and forth at the pair of them. "Why would you want it to grow bigger?"

"Why not?" said Meredith, and Felicity laughed.

"Oh, I like you. You're fun," said Felicity, leaning over and giving Meredith a hug.

"To fun, then, and may the Umbridges of the world never bother decent folk!" said Tom, raising his glass.

"Here here!" said Meredith, raising her glass in turn.

"I'll drink to that!" said a man at the next table, and soon the entirety of the bar was cheering to the banishment of Dolores Umbridge to places that would scare even a boggart.

"I didn't know Umbridge was so popular," said Meredith, after starting in on her second glass of firewhiskey. She'd meant to ask for something else, but the firewhiskey filled her up in way muggle drinks didn't and she was loathe to put it down.

"Oh, she's very popular around here. If you ever drift down into Knock Turn Alley, they'll sell you a charm that lets you know when she's near. A real crowd pleaser, that," said Felicity, lifting an amulet from under her shirt. "It glows blue when she's nearby."

"Didn't Frodo's …" began Tom, and Felicity nodded.

"We like it too. Tolkien wasn't a wizard, but a good book's a good book."

"Has anyone tried to make a one ring? Like, for real?" asked Tom, and Felicity's face fell.

"There are things that can be done to make things like it, but that's dark magic. The kind of magic You-Know-Who probably meddled in," said Felicity, the joy leaving her face.

"Sorry, but who?" asked Tom.

"Who's You-Know-Who?" asked Meredith.

Felicity bit her lip and took a deep breath before responding. "He was a dark wizard. Tried to take over Britain, raised an army. Nearly succeeded until he tried to kill Harry Potter about nine years ago."

"What happened when he tried to kill Harry?" asked Meredith, leaning in. He'd seemed so sweet at dinner, and his time with his aunt and uncle began to make a horrifying sort of sense.

"Nothing. Nothing happened, and You-Know-Who vanished. He tried to kill him and it didn't work, and whatever it was that he didn't succeed at killed him, or obliterated him," said Felicity, as if the shock of it was still new.

"And Harry's parents?" asked Meredith, already knowing the answer.

"Dead. Killed by You-Know-Who before he tried to kill Harry Potter. They say he lives with muggles now. He was down here with Hagrid, Hogwarts' groundskeeper, today so I kept out of his way. Didn't want to be just another person staring at him," said Felicity.

"We met him when we went to buy our Helena, our owl. He seems like a nice young lad. The girls have decided to be penpals with him. I'll try to let them know to not ask rude questions about his parent's … about his past," said Meredith.

"Was very polite at dinner. His muggle family seems horrible, but …" and Tom shrugged. "We can't just take him away because his family is wretched."

Felicity stared at the pair of them, then laughed. "Oh, that poor lad. He has your two girls writing him? He has no idea what he's in for, does he?"

Meredith smiled and Tom shrugged.

"Nary a clue. Best to let him learn on his own, as do we all," said Tom.

The rest of the evening went swimmingly. The drinks flowed out from the bar, and Tom the Barman decided to roll Felicity into the Granger's drinks when he learned that they'd befriended her.

They tried an assortment, but always went back to firewhiskey, and near the end of the night they found that they'd gain a bottle of it for themselves at their table ("For the road, since you can't get it muggleside," said Tom the Barman).

"Oh but we must do this again sometime! You two are wonderful!" said Felicity, swaying in her seat as she clutched a glass of firewhiskey like a precious gem.

"Once the girls are away at Hogwarts, I think! It'll be something to do in the evenings," said Meredith, who blushed scarlett as the words left her mouth.

"Something … or someone?" leered Felicity, and she and Meredith laughed. "I'm sorry, you just …"

Meredith nodded. "Or some manner of fun activity. We trust your judgement entirely," her face going a deeper shade of red.

"I'm game for whatever you both come up with," said Tom, blinking like a toad in the sun.

"Splendid! For now, though," and Felicity waved her wand over a bar napkin, and a series of circles appeared on it. "Just write my name on that if you want to reach out, and it'll grab my attention. Now, before I'm too drunk to even apperate, I must bid you both adieu."

Meredith got up with Felicity, and got a hug and a peck on the cheek from her. Tom got up to shake her hand, but instead also got a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which he took in great stride.

"Until next time!" said Felicity. She gave Tom the Barman a wave, who waved back, and then she vanished.

"She seems nice," said Meredith, her face still red. "And pretty. I like her."

"As do I. Our next meeting should be fun," said Tom, going beet red as he finally realized what had been said in front of him. "Until, then, though," and he offered his arm to Meredith, and they went up to their rooms, making sure to take the bottle of Firewhiskey that Tom the Barman had given them and hoping that their hangovers wouldn't be too terrible in the morning.


	7. Platform Nine and Three Quarters

The next month went by in a flash, it seemed. Each day, Hermione and Rosalina would write Harry a letter and send him an owl. Each day, he would write them a letter. They'd sometimes jot down a quick response and send it back with Hedwig, Harry's owl. More often, though, they'd give Hedwig a treat and send it on its way before writing a letter and sending it over with Helena.

Rosalina would write to Felicity about everything, anything that came to mind about school. At first, Hermione only wanted to look at their books about Hogwarts, but after several bouts of "Hermione, you can't ask Professor McGonagall about every little thing you're worried about, just ask Felicity!" from Rosalina, she began to write her in ernest as well.

Felicity gave wonderful responses, Hermione had to admit, if not out loud. Professor McGonagall's responses were friendly enough, although she avoided saying what life as a student was like. Felicity, meanwhile, had only been out from Hogwarts for a few years, it seemed, and had loads of advice.

"Don't be stupid in Professor Snape's class (he's the Potions Master!), and don't quote everything from the book. He hates that."

"Professor Flitwick (Charms, love him!) likes it when you to get the hang of spells on your own, but if you don't get something don't be afraid to ask for help. Don't go to Snape for help unless you're a Slytherin."

"Hagrid teaches, but only if you ask Professor Dumbledore special about it. I don't think they'll ever give him a class of his own, but he can be really good if you keep him focused."

"Don't ever expect to have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for more than a year. Rumor says the job's cursed, so you'll have to manage on your own for that sort of thing for some years."

"Don't try and cross McGonagall (Transfiguration, nice but kind of scary). No really. She sees everything and you'll just end up in detention, even if you're in Gryffindor."

"Professor Sinistra (Astronomy, rumor has it that she went to Oxford) doesn't appreciate Uranus jokes, so try to keep them to a whisper, or, better yet, hold them until you're out the door."

These were among the more choice bits of advice she had for them. Hermione loved hearing about what the teachers would really cover (Snape - Read the board; Flitwick - Read the book), while Rosalina loved hearing about which teachers you could get to go off on a tangent if you distracted them properly (Hagrid, of course, but Snape too, if you were clever about it).

After a month of writing letters back and forth, though, the time came for them to go to King's Cross Station to take the Hogwarts Express to school.

They'd agreed to meet up with Harry at King's Cross Station a little early so they could grab a bite to eat before they left for Hogwarts. Nobody quite knew what Mr Granger had said to Harry's uncle to get him to agree to this arrangement, but come nine thirty there they were, depositing Harry. They left the moment they realized that the Grangers were there, not saying so much as a hello to them, leaving Mr and Mrs Granger more than a little grumpy.

"It's probably for the best that they didn't stay to talk. They don't like that I'm going somewhere I might have fun," said Harry, not looking at anyone.

"They don't what?" asked Mrs Granger, but Hermione had grabbed her hand and began to pull her towards a cafe.

"Come on, mum! I'm starving, and I bet Harry's hungry," said Hermione, and that was that. It wasn't that Hermione didn't care, but she'd learned that Harry didn't enjoy talking about what the Dursleys did or didn't do while he was with them.

They had enough time to have a quick bite to eat before Hermione, Rosalina, and Harry began to fidget, looking around the train station and attempting to spy out the platform.

"Professor McGonagall said that if we wanted to get onto platform Nine and Three Quarters we had to walk into the pillar between platforms Nine and Ten," said Hermione. "But does that mean it's somewhere else, or just that's how we see it? I don't see how they could hide a whole platform in the middle of the station."

"Magic, that's how," said Rosalina between bites of her breakfast sandwich.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Rosalina, it's not polite," said Mrs Granger.

"Sorry, mum," said Rosalina, mouth still full.

"Well, once we finish up we can go find out. I'm sure that we're not the only ones who'll be trying to figure out how to get in," said Mr Granger.

The pillar that Professor McGonagall mentioned didn't make any more sense once they got over there than it had at the table in the cafe.

"Maybe there's a trigger, or something?" said Harry, waving a hand in front of it.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind them, chattering to each other and pushing a number of large trunks just like their own.

"— packed with Muggles, of course —"

Hermione, Rosalina, and Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like theirs — and they had an owl.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mum, can't I go . . ."

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. They watched, but just as he reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of them and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, he'd vanished.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone. Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

"What in the world?" said Mr Granger, looking closer at the column. His eyes unfocused from it, and slid off, but he forced himself to not lose sight of it.

"Pardon me," began Hermione at the same time Harry spoke up.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dears," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangly, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Harry. "The thing is — the thing is, we don't know how to —"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and they nodded. "Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the column between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er — okay," said Harry, and off he went. He started slow, but picked up speed as he went at the column and soon he'd vanished, just as the others had.

"But how did he do it? Where did he go?" asked Hermione, looking around at where he'd been.

"You next, love," said the woman, and Hermione gulped, then followed after Harry, vanishing at he had.

"I think I get it …" began Rosalina before she just raced after Hermione and Harry, squealing all the way.

"I'm still trying to see what they did …" said Mrs Granger, unable to focus on her daughters and Harry.

"It can be like that for muggles," said the woman, her daughter straining at her hand to go through the column barrier. "Like I told your lad, it helps to go at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Ron, you go on in, show them how it's done."

The boy, Ron, gripped his things tight in hand and charged towards the column and, focusing with all his might, Mr Granger was able to see, for a moment, the world shift around the boy. Then he was gone.

"I think … no, I thought I had it," said Mr Granger, sure that he'd nearly understood what had happened.

"I think that we can make a proper go of it on our own, though. Shall we?" asked Mrs Granger, and together they ran through onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

The change was startling. Where there had been a mostly empty space of nothing, there was now a busy platform, bustling with luggage, owls, cats and witches and wizards. Young and old, there were hundreds of witches and wizards, all crowded onto the platform and the train, the Hogwarts Express.

"Wow," said Mr Granger, looking around. "I knew that there were a lot of students going up to Hogwarts, but this is a little …"

"There are a lot of them, certainly. And they get younger every year, it seems," said the red haired woman, coming through behind them with her daughter.

"That's the way of young folk, though," said Mrs Granger. "Thank you for your help, by the way."

"Oh, of course. Happy to have helped. I'm just amazed, though. I have those four going to Hogwarts this year, but at least they're in different years. You have three all starting out."

"Oh, we only have two. Harry is a friend of our girls, Hermione and Rosalina. His aunt and uncle are … well, we thought it would be best to meet him here," said Mrs Granger. "I'm sorry, we haven't introduced ourselves. I'm Meredith Granger, and this is my husband, Tom," she said, extending a hand to the red haired witch.

"Molly Weasley, and it's a pleasure to meet you," she said in turn, shaking her hand. "This is my daughter, Ginny. She'll be starting next year."

"Oh, mum, couldn't I go up this year? I'm practically old enough," said Ginny.

"No, Ginny! You're still too young. We've talked about this," said Mrs Weasley.

"Here he is!" said Rosalina, her voice riding over the crowd.

"Oh, thanks! Trevor just keeps trying to escape," said a boy.

"Oh, Finley's the same! If Hermione and I weren't Parselmouths I'm not sure how we'd keep track of him; he wants so much to get out and look at things," said Rosalina.

Mrs Weasley tilted her head for a moment, like a dog hearing a noise it had never heard before, then took a breath and gave a little cough.

"Well, they should be in for an interesting year at Hogwarts, if nothing else. Now where did my lads get off too? If you'll excuse me," she said, and she drifted off towards the rear end of the train, pulling her daughter along behind her.

"Harry Potter!" came another voice from over the crowd, and suddenly Mr and Mrs Granger were aware of an awfully lot of people looking at them.

"Hermione? Rosalina?" said Mr Granger, and the girls made themselves known.

"Here dad!" said Hermione, holding a toad in her hands. "Neville, this is Neville, keeps losing his toad so we've been with him keeping an eye on it."

Rosalina had Finley, her snake, out and around her shoulders.

"Hello Neville. Hermione, Rosalina, are you all right? Need any help with your things?" said Mr Granger.

"Oh no! Those boys helped us get our things on, they were very nice about it," said Rosalina, gesturing to three boys standing near the train; a skinny, blonde boy and two boys that looked like they'd be excellent boxers if wizards did that sort of thing. One of the bigger boys gave a shy wave, while the other glared at them. The blonde smiled.

"Well then, it seems that you're all set. Here's a bit of pocket change, in case they have something fun on the cart," said Mr Granger. This earned him a glare from Mrs Granger. "What? They can cheat a little bit. It's wizarding treats, I'm sure they'll be fine as long as they remember to clean their teeth after."

The girls squealed and gave Mr Granger a hug, and soon they were off onto the train, waving at their parents from a compartment with the boy Neville as they traveled off to Hogwarts.


	8. The Sorting Hat

The ride to Hogwarts was an adventure in and of itself. The snack trolley indeed had wizarding treats ("Chocolate Frogs! They're not really alive, don't worry, and look! They have collectable cards!" said Neville as he grabbed at Trevor again), and the blonde boy and his friends came by their compartment to say hello.

They didn't really get along with Neville very well, but they made an effort, if nothing else. Neville was a nervous wreck with Crabbe and Goyle in the compartment, but a raised eyebrow from Rosalina got them to back down.

"It's like they need someone to tell them what to do," said Hermione after they left. "Well, Crabbe and Goyle, at least. Draco seemed polite enough."

"That's because he's trying to impress you. He can be a real terror if he wants to be," said Neville, holding Trevor close.

"Well, maybe this'll be a chance for him to turn a new leaf. Crabbe and Goyle seemed penitent, at least," said Rosalina.

Hermione laughed. "That's because you gave them your look, Rosa," she said, making sure to not speak in parseltongue in front of Neville; no need to be impolite.

"I don't have a look!" said Rosalina, crossing her arms and scowling.

"You do! You give it to people at school all the time. You gave it to them just now," said Hermione, laughing all the more as Rosaline threw a Chocolate Frog at her.

"It was really great! I hope I'm in your house. It'll be really rich to watch them cower," said Neville, wiggling in his seat, a huge grin on his face.

"It's not like I try to be intimidating! It just sort of happens," said Rosalina, arms still crossed.

"Really? You've never tried to use your look to be intimidating? Not once?" said Hermione, nudging her sister.

"Well, maybe once or twice. A week. But that's not like it's all the time! Just enough to keep people in line. Oh, piss off you two, I'm going to go say hello to Harry!" said Rosalina, leaving the compartment and storming down to where she figured Harry's compartment was.

"Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow," said a voice from within the compartment as she opened it up.

The youngest red haired boy was sitting in there across from Harry, and he looked like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar when he saw her.

"Hello Harry! Just thought I'd say hi. What are you doing?" said Rosalina, sitting down next to Harry.

"Ron was just showing me a spell his brothers taught him," said Harry, leaning in and looking at the rat the boy, Ron, was holding.

"I think it's a dud, though. He doesn't look any different," said Ron, poking at the rat with his wand.

"Maybe you said the words wrong? Our spellbooks all said that pronunciation is important," said Rosalina, looking down at the rat as well.

"Nah. Fred and George, my brothers, gave it to me, I bet they knew it was a dud. I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley," said Ron.

"Rosalina Granger. We met for a moment on the platform. You went in after I did," said Rosalina, smiling at him.

"Yeah! Hey, did you hear that there's a parselmouth on the train? I heard someone claiming that they were a parselmouth," said Ron, leaning in towards her.

Then you heard correctly, hissed Rosalina, laughing at his slack jawed stare. "There's a few of us on the train, actually. I'm one of them, but I'm not going to out the others in case they want to keep it under their hat."

"More than one parselmouth? In one year? Oh gosh. No wonder mum was … well, I've never met a parselmouth before. I thought that was really dark magic," said Ron, leaning back away from her in his seat.

"I'm a parselmouth too, Ron. And it's not dark magic. It's just a talent. A rare one, but a talent. I mean, look at my scar and tell me it's a dark talent," said Harry, and Ron relaxed, if only a little bit.

"Well, you-know-who could do it, but, well, I guess it can't really be that bad. It's odd, though. How'd you learn?" asked Ron.

Rosalina shrugged. "Dunno. I've just always been able to do it. I can teach it to other people, though. That's how … well, I can teach it."

There was a knock at the door, and Neville and Hermione appeared.

"Rosalina, I've lost Trevor again," said Neville, eyes wide.

"Neville. Robe pockets," said Rosalina, not getting up.

"He's not … oh, wait, yes, he is. I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached; thanks Rosalina," said Neville, giving Harry and Ron a little wave.

"Hi Harry! Rosalina, we better start getting into our robes. I've asked the conductor, and they said we're going to be there soon," said Hermione, glancing out the window.

"Right on! Harry, Ron, see you at school!" said Rosalina, and they all piled out into the hallway, running almost straight into Draco, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Hallo! They say we're going to be there soon, so we're going up to get ready," said Rosalina. Hermione and Neville passed by them, moving faster around Goyle than Draco.

"Yeah, right. Listen, is it true that Harry Potter's in there?" asked Draco, peeking over her shoulder.

"He is, but this probably isn't the time to come at him, since I bet he's about to start getting into his robes. I'd talk with him after we got up to the school, if it was me," said Rosalina.

"Good idea. Thanks, Rosalina. I hope we're in the Slytherin together, you're … you're good for it," said Draco. Crabbe and Goyle nodded behind him.

"They place us where they place us. It's not like we can't talk with people in other houses, though, even if we're not in the same one," said Rosalina with a shrug. She smiled at Crabbe and Goyle, then squeezed by and followed Hermione and Neville back up to their compartment. Draco stood there for a moment longer before following after.

It wasn't that much longer before the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station near Hogwarts, and a flood of students dressed in their robes and uniforms piled out, leaving their luggage behind as had been requested of them. Neville had nearly lost Trevor two more times, though he'd been able to find him on his own the last time, so Rosalina had gained hope for him.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry? 'Allo, Hermione, Rosalina!"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed at them over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me — anymore firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path, surrounded by big, thick trees on both sides. Nobody spoke much.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore.

"I'll go with Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, you two go with Harry and Ron. See you on the other side," said Rosalina, moving over to the open spot next to Draco.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then — FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. Rosalina smiled at Draco, then ran over to rejoin Hermione, Neville and Harry.

Did you see that! It's a castle! Hogwarts is a castle, a real castle, like out of a fairy book! hissed Rosalina without thinking, too excited to speak in English as she scratched Finley's head.

I know! I mean, Hogwarts, A History said as much, but seeing it in real life, it's like a dream come true! hissed Hermione back to her, a big grin on her face.

Neville gave them both funny looks, but shrugged and stayed close, unlike the other students around them, who began to whisper back and forth to each other.

Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here?" Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door, which swung open at once and revealed Professor McGonagall, looking as stern as she had when she first arrived at the Granger household.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big the whole of their home might have fit inside it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They could hear the drone of hundreds of other students from down the hall, but Professor McGonagall led them all into a smallish stone chamber adjacent to the noise, and gave them the very first lesson they'd learn at Hogwarts.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

"Neville, your cloak!" said Rosalina, turning to fix it, as it was fastened under his left ear.

"Thanks!" said Neville, grabbing at Trevor, who was trying to escape again.

"I wonder what spells I'll need to use? I mean, I've tried to memorize as many of them as I could, but learning them from a book and knowing the proper way to cast them are two different things altogether," said Hermione, voice picking up speed as she spoke.

"Minnie, we've not even started yet. They won't be having us cast any spells to get in; I'll eat Finley if we do," said Rosalina. Finley, who understood a few human words, began to writhe at this.

Eat Finley? No eat Finley! Finley good snek! said Finley, wriggling all over Rosalina's shoulders.

I was only joking, Finley, I would never eat you, said Rosalina, nuzzling him, and he settled down, if only a little.

"Finley thought I was being serious. He can understand a few human words," said Rosalina to a confused Neville.

"He can understand you? I didn't think that snakes were that smart. Gosh. Hello, Finley!" said Neville, looking closer at Finley.

Hello. I am Finley. I am snek, said Finley, bobbing his head up and down and moving back and forth on Rosalina's shoulders

"He says hello," said Rosalina, although at that moment a stream of ghosts came through the wall. Rosalina and Hermione knew that they were there, because Hogwarts, A History had mentioned them, but it was still astonishing to see them moving, and talking, and generally not being fake, fabricated things.

Soon enough, though, Professor McGonagall whisked them into the main hall, where a full table of professional witches and wizards sat, their teachers, and hundreds of students. Candles floated in the air, and the ceiling matched that of the outside, via a spell that they'd read about in Hogwarts, A History and suddenly Rosalina felt very small. Hermione slipped hand into hers and gave it a squeeze.

Professor McGonagall led them all up to the front of the hall, where the hundreds of students looked at and into them, it seemed, making them feel like they'd been placed at a test they could not pass. Rosalina wasn't sure that they weren't meant to do magic to get in, that perhaps this was the real test.

Professor McGonagall placed an old, dusty hat on a stool in front of them, with a large rip right at the seam. It began to sing the kind of song that only a hat would create. Its song told them that it was the sorting hat, and it would be the one to place them into their houses. It told them what each house was like; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin. Names that Rosalina and Hermione had heard, but hadn't gained real context for until now.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," said Professor McGonagall, stepping forward with a large scroll in hand. "Abbott, Hannah!"

Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones became the first new Hufflepuffs, while Terry Boot became the first new Ravenclaw. The names went by in a blur after that until they got to …

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione gave Rosalina's hand a squeeze. "See you at our table!" she whispered, and she was off to put on the sorting hat.

"GRYFFINDOR!" said the hat, and the whole of Gryffindor table cheered. Rosalina smiled, and was already on her way forward when Professor McGonagall shouted "Granger, Rosalina!"

I'm going to look forward to being in Gryffindor thought Rosalina as she put on the hat.

"Gryffindor‽ You‽" said the hat, and it let loose a full bellied laugh that seemed to bounce around her head, and she went scarlett. "Oh, I needed that. I haven't laughed that hard since Tom, pining away over that girl. You're not a Gryffindor." It didn't leave any room for opinion, or debate. It simply was a thing that was.

"You're loyal, and want justice. Oh, yes, you want justice. But there's cunning, oh, my yes there is a lot of cunning. Where to put you …" said the hat.

I don't much care where I go if I can't be with Hermione in Gryffindor, so long as I'm happy, thought Rosalina.

"Happy? I can do happy. That makes this ever so much easier. Happiness you want, happiness you get. Better be … SLYTHERIN!" said the hat, and the Slytherin table cheered.

Rosalina went over in a daze, sitting down next to Crabbe, who'd made a spot for her near him. Hermione and Neville gave a little wave from Gryffindor table, and Rosalina waved back, with less enthusiasm.

"Malfoy, Draco," was sorted soon enough after and he joined her near Crabbe at the table.

"This is great! We're going to have a great year, just you wait. I'm so happy we're sharing a house," said Malfoy, smiling at her. It seemed genuine, if only for a moment.

"Potter, Harry," went to Gryffindor as well, after what seemed to be an age. His sorting took much longer than anyone else's, though he was a happy enough camper at his table, plopping down next to Hermione. He didn't wave, and Finley gave her a comforting squeeze.


	9. Nocturne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on Mr Tom and Mrs Meredith Granger and it does get steamy, so if you're too young to read that sort of thing, ignore this update. If you're old enough or ignoring that warning anyway, read on and enjoy!

"Are you ready for a night out on the town?" asked Meredith, putting on blue lipstick to top off the do she'd put together . It had been ages since she'd really had the chance to go out. She and Tom had had date nights, of course, but those were more of a dinner and a show affair, maybe with an exciting romp in an alley afterword if they were feeling particularly frisky. They didn't feel old, but two active eleven year old girls took their toll on what one might consider to be exciting.

Tonight was something else. Their girls were away at school for the time being and Felicity Smith was young, perky, and willing to show them the sights of wizarding entertainment and be their nightlife guru.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I think," said Tom, coming out dressed in ripped jeans, punk boots, and his lawn mowing shirt. "What? She said this would be an underground show, and this is as underground as I get."

"Really. That's what you're going … the shirt needs to go, at least. Why would you wear that out?" asked Meredith, a giggle escaping from her even as she tried to be annoyed.

"It's a punk shirt. I like it. That's why I still have it. It was cool back …" began Tom.

"Back when it was new? Tom, you've been mowing the lawn in that shirt for seven years now, and only that shirt, with a rotating sphere of gym shorts. You don't have to get rid of it, but I insist that you wear a different shirt out," said Meredith.

"Well, what would you suggest?" asked Tom, pulling the shirt off.

Meredith went to the closet in a heartbeat and had pulled out a black button up shirt.

"This!" she said, handing it to him with a large smile. "You look great when you wear it, and you'll look great in it tonight."

"It doesn't seem very … underground," said Tom, slipping it on and rolling up the sleeves.

"It's sexy. Black works for all occasions. All the girls will be swooning over you," said Meredith, pulling him down and giving him a kiss.

"And you'll be fighting off the boys," said Tom, eyeing Meredith's outfit. She'd also selected a pair of punk boots, but that's where the similarities ended. Her leg covering of choice were ripped fishnet stockings and a plaid belted skirt that only just reached her mid thigh, while her top was a thin, long sleeved red shirt under a black leather corset.

"You know, we don't need to go out to have a fun night," said Tom, pulling Meredith close to him.

She laughed and pushed him away. "Down, boy. You can have fun unwrapping me later, but we need to head out if we want to get there in time. This outfit isn't going anywhere. Yet. Now, where's that napkin?"

Tom handed her the napkin that Felicity had given them and, with a bit of a flourish, Meredith wrote Felicity's name onto it.

The circles all began to rotate, each spinning faster and wilder until they rose off the napkin and transfigured themselves into a little sphere of light, made of the intersecting circles, which fell in on itself before exploding outwards in a small burst.

"Well that was exciting," said Tom, blinking as he tried to clear away the dots swimming in front of his eyes.

"I wonder how we'll know she knows?" asked Meredith, who'd managed to close her eyes in time.

There was a popping sound, and Felicity manifested in the middle of the room. Her eyes went wide when she saw them.

"Merlin's beard, you two look great! I mean, Tom, you're sharp, but Meredith … wow," said Felicity, her eyes moving up and down Meredith's outfit as she drank it in. Meredith blushed.

"Good?" she asked, giving Felicity a little twirl.

"Oh … oh, yeah, you look good," said Felicity, who, for her part, was wearing something more akin to what Tom was wearing, albeit more form fitting and with more rips in the jeans, although while his were the result of years of happy wearing, hers seemed to be far larger and much more aimed at accentuating her legs.

"It's not … too much, is it?" asked Meredith, giving Felicity's outfit a once over as well.

"No!" said Tom and Felicity at the same time.

"No, you'll be … you'll be fine," said Felicity, suddenly breathless.

"Good! Good. Shall we be off, then?" asked Meredith, grinning.

"Yes! We'll be getting their by apparation, since your home isn't connected to the Floo network yet. It's faster than driving," said Felicity, extending her arm.

"So, do I just … hold on to you then?" asked Meredith, walking over to Felicity and slipping her hand into her arm.

"And we'll be off, although I can take two people at once," said Felicity, winking at Tom.

Tom, getting the hint, took hold of her other arm, and with a Granger on each arm, Felicity apperated back to her apartment in Diagon Alley.

Her apartment was the kind of clean that was more barely-contained-chaos than organized-and-neat. There were piles everywhere, but well managed ones. There were paths to the couches, tables, and assorted important locations. It seemed that at any moment, a bad weekend would sent everything spiraling over the edge, but it worked for now.

"Wow," said Meredith, looking around unimpressed.

"We tidied up, but I'm no good at cleaning magicks," said Felicity.

"Do you use magic for everything?" asked Tom, stepping over to the loveseat in the corner of the room.

"What do you mean?" asked Felicity, flicking her wand and setting the room into a bit more order. She said a word and with another flick of her wand a trio of glasses filled with a dark liquid appeared in front of each of them. "Here, something to start the evening with. Easier to drink here and go in feeling good rather than to pay our way there," she said, taking a glass out of the air.

"Neat," said Meredith, snatching her own glass and drinking it down. "Ooo, firewhiskey! My favorite wizarding drink."

Felicity took a deep drink from her own glass. "Yeah, that's what I remembered from the last time we drank together."

"This is the one that gives you both drunk confidence and magic confidence, right?" asked Tom, taking a drink from his own glass. It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement of how things were.

"Yes, that's the one," said Felicity, staring at Meredith for a moment before examining her glass again.

"Splendid! I like the way this evening is starting," said Tom, giving Felicity a nudge in the side and a wink.

"Oh? Oh! Good," said Felicity, smiling at Tom.

They each worked their way through another glass, and another after that. Felicity sidled closer to Meredith until they were nearly on top of each other, each laughing at the other's horrible jokes.

"iT's TImE tO LEaVe If yOu WANt TO bE on TiMe!" croaked a clock from the wall, followed by a series of bangs and several clouds of smoke.

"I really need to get that stupid thing fixed," said Felicity. "Come on, let's head out! It's right after all, more or less, probably."

And with that they were off, staggering down Diagon Alley, laughing and bumping into each other all the while.

"Where are we heading, exactly? I mean, it's a band of some kind, but … who? And where?" asked Tom, looking around to see if he could get an idea of where they were.

"We're going to see Phoenix Flight, performing at the Werewolf's Howl, in Knockturn Alley, it's just down this way," Felicity, guiding them down a road that branched away from Diagon Alley.

"Knockturn Alley, Diagon Alley; you folk really do love your puns, don't you?" said Meredith, glancing at the shops around them. "These look less … child friendly … than the shops in Diagon Alley."

"Yeah, Knockturn Alley's good for that. Dark magic and, shall we say, grown up wizard things is what it specializes in. Diagon Alley's a bit tamer," said Felicity, nodding at a tattoo parlor down the road.

"Dark magic? I thought all magic was the same," said Tom.

"Eh. It's complicated. I honestly don't think that there's really such a thing as pure dark magic, per say. Just poorly used or misunderstood magic. Really, any sort magic used to hurt someone else is dark magic, but, again, that all depends on how you use it and who you ask," said Felicity as they walked down the alley. "There it is! Come on, it sounds like it's starting."

Felicity pulled them down a series of steps through a thick oak door that looked like it had been there for the past few hundred years. The sound of music pulsed in the room beyond, but before they could go there, they ran into a rather pale gentleman dressed in a refined black outfit.

"Miss Felicity. You are welcome here. Who are those that travel with you?" asked the gentleman, his eyes a pale, almost cloudy white. His voice grated, like it was being pulled out of him.

"Hullo James! These are friends of mine, this is Tom Granger, shorthand Tom, and this is Meredith Granger, shorthand Meredith," said Felicity, gesturing to each Granger in turn.

James looked over them, then nodded. "You are welcome here, Tom and Meredith. Enjoy the Werewolf's Howl," said James, and he moved to the side.

The inside of the Werewolf's Howl was alive with activity. It had a similar design to the Leaky Cauldron in structure, but where that had been more of a place to drink, this looked like it had been that place's basement and expanded into something greater. The ceiling was huge and arched, supported by large stone pillars.

Against one of the back walls, under an arch, was a bar, surrounded by a veritable crowd of people, each fighting for the attention of the lone bartender attending it.

In another corner, on a stage that looked barely big enough for one person, were four wizards, each on a different instrument, none of them identifiable. The music itself was odd, to say the least. It was dancing music, and the witches and wizards in the crowd certainly appreciated it, but it was like nothing Meredith or Tom had ever heard before. Their hips liked it, though, and they soon found themselves moving along with it.

"Catchy, aren't they?" asked Felicity, joining them as they danced closer to the crowd.

"I've never heard anything like them," said Meredith, shaking up and down as she got into the music.

"They're horrible, but I love them," said a male voice. Tom and Meredith looked up to see an older man with dark, salt and pepper hair in a well kept wizard's robe which existed somewhere between a suit and an outfit out of Conan the barbarian.

"Ashton, you old devil! How are you?" asked Felicity, giving the man a hug. "Meredith, Tom, this is Ashton Plotz. He owns this pile of rubbish."

"Ah, but what a fine pile of rubbish it is, you little degenerate. Sara, drinks for our new friends," said Ashton Plotz with a snap of his fingers. The short, dark haired bartender made a set of drinks, then leapt over the bartop and surrounding crowd and bounded over to them. Her eyes, upon examination, were the same milky white as James the doorman.

"Two glasses of the MacAbre for the sir and madam, Mr Plotz," said Sara, giving them a bow before bounding back behind the bar.

"MacAbre? Like, from Discworld? It's real?" asked Tom, swishing his drink a couple times before drinking it.

"It was a wizarding whiskey long before it Mr Pratchett took it for his books," said Ashton Plotz with a wink and a nod. "And a fine pair of muggles such yourselves will appreciate it, I'm sure."

"What about my glass?" asked Felicity, hand on her hip.

"What about it? There's the bar; you can start a tab. These are for my new friends. Enjoy your evening, all," said Ashton Plotz, and with that he vanished.

"I'll be back," said Felicity, and she vanished as well.

Tom and Meredith enjoyed their drinks for a moment longer, although once Felicity returned they soon vanished and they were back into the dancing crowd.

The music pulsed and vibed, filling their bodies with light and rhythm. Tom stayed near Meredith, his body intertwining with hers as they moved in time with the music. Felicity stood near and swayed with them at first, though soon she was dancing in sync with them as natural as breathing.

They would stop for drinking on occasion to keep themselves fluid, of course, with Ashton Plotz himself pouring their drinks when they came for them, each glass a little more full than the last one. They'd down their trio of drinks, then move back to the dance floor.

They started on the edge, like one does, but each time they'd drift to the middle of the floor, and the wizards and witches around them would cheer as they moved and rocked in ways they had never seen.

Meredith and Tom were like animals uncaged. The years flowed off of them, and they forgot that they were each about ten years older than the average person on the dance floor, but that only added to their electric vibe. A power beyond magic flowed from them, going into the dancers and the music, giving the place a life it hadn't had before.

Felicity herself was intoxicated by them. Her face was flushed red, and whenever she had the chance she was as close to Meredith as Tom was, or writhing up and down Tom as Meredith did.

At a particularly high point of a song, Felicity, multiple firewhiskeys into the evening alongside the Grangers, just went in to kiss Meredith, who flushed a deeper red than she'd been before.

"I'm sorry, I mean, oh gosh, it just seemed, I'm …" stammered out Felicity, but she wasn't able to complete any of her thoughts, as Meredith pulled her into another kiss, longer and heavier than the one Felicity had given her. Their hands wandered all over each other, and Felicity pawed at Meredith's skirt just as Meredith clawed at Felicity's shirt and ass.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?" said Meredith to Felicity, who nodded meekly.

"I'll … I'll go settle up and meet you … " said Felicity.

"We'll go with you," said Tom, slinking his arms around Meredith's waist.

"Oh, ok," said Felicity, running her hands through her hair and grinning.

Ashton Plotz shooed them away when they went over to pay ("This was a great night, you have fun, come back"), and they were out the door. It wasn't but a flash till they were back at Felicity's apartment.

Felicity's eyes went wide when she saw Tom in the nude, as he'd wasted no time stipping out of his everything, but her jaw dropped when Meredith began to strip out of her evening wear. She was slow going, taking time to ensure that both Felicity and Tom got a show. First came the boots, flung to different corners of the room. Next came the panties, soaking mess that they were, which were tossed to Felicity.

"How long have you been …" began Felicity.

"Long enough; too long," replied Meredith, and she shook her ass, her skirt appearing shorter and shorter by the minute.

Tom got behind her, moving in time with her gyrations, but while she smiled and ground into him, Meredith pushed him away before he could take things further.

"Not yet, my love. This is all for Felicity," said Meredith, sauntering towards Felicity, kneeling in front of her when she got to her. "You mind helping me help you out of all this?" asked Meredith, and Felicity almost ripped her pants apart getting them off before she got her wand and vanished all the clothes on her body.

"Ready," said Felicity, flushed and red all over.

Meredith pouted. "That's no fun," she said, spreading Felicity's legs apart. "But speed can be nice as well," and in she went.

Felicity screamed so loud that it was a feat unto itself that no one complained. "Merlin's … God you're good at that, don't stop," she said, her back arching as she ground into Meredith's mouth. She shuddered after a few moments, twitching and giving a silent scream of joy.

"Oh, this isn't fair," said Tom, and he went over to Meredith, pulled her backwards, and spread her legs in turn.

"Oh, Tom, that's not … oh, Tom …" said Meredith, her focus drifting as Tom's mouth went to work. It was a time again until Meredith was able to do anything mind shattering, but Felicity was in such a state of ecstasy that she didn't mind.

"Now look who's being left out?" said Felicity between breaths.

"You're right, we're not being fair," said Meredith, looking up at Felicity with lusty eyes. "How big is your bed?"

Felicity pulled out her wand and grinned. "However big it needs to be," she said, laughing and moaning as Meredith dove back down between her legs for a few more moments before getting up.

Tom looked almost disappointed, but when Meredith and Felicity took each arm in theirs, his frown turned right upside down, and he followed them back to the bedroom with a slap happy grin on his face.

Felicity's bed looked only just large enough to hold her, but with a word and a wave of her wand, it morphed and expanded until it had gone from twin to king, more than filling the room.

"Now, were we?" asked Tom, spinning Felicity onto the bed.

"No, we're not being fair to you," said Felicity, though she laid back in the middle of the bed, spread her legs and grinned.

"I'd say not. I want to have a chance to taste you as well, if you'll let me," said Tom, crawling into bed beside Meredith, who'd already began to taste Felicity's breasts, flicking over them with her tongue.

Felicity nodded and Tom got down and got to work, starting from A and working his way up the alphabet from there. Felicity's legs got tight around his head around Q, so he worked that Q as best he could.

"How … are you both … so good … at … this …" said Felicity, writhing beneath their combined assault.

"Practice," said Tom, moving his fingers into place and working them inside of her. "Lots of practice."

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," cried Felicity, clutching her sheets as pleasure shot through her again. She pulled Meredith up to her mouth and their lips sank into each other, each kiss they gave lasting longer than the last.

When they pulled apart at last, each one was breathing heavy, the desire between the two women almost tangable.

"Ok, my turn. I need to taste you," said Felicity, pulling Meredith onto her face. Meredith was altogether too happy to be guided and yelped with delight when Felicity got to work, though she soon began to moan as Felicity worked more and more, her tongue flicking in and out in time with her fingers.

"I don't know what I did to deserve this, but thank you god," said Tom, sitting up at last and enjoying the show going on in front of him.

"What's wrong?" asked Felicity, stopping for a moment to look at Tom, then herself, then back at Tom.

"My mouth is tired," said Tom with a laugh.

"Not all of you is tired, I hope," said Felicity, looking up at Meredith, who nodded.

"It is not," said Tom, picking up on the hint. Meredith swing herself off from Felicity's face with a few protests from Felicity.

"I'm going to watch this; I've been teasing Tom about you ever since we first went drinking, and I want to enjoy the show," said Meredith, giving Felicity a peck on the lips.

"Really? I was just out from work then," said Felicity, spreading her legs as Tom positioned himself between them.

"Ever since the shop, really," said Tom as he plunged into her. Felicity gasped and Tom went to work, plunging in and out of her with piston-like regularity.

"Harder, go harder," cried Felicity, clawing at Tom's back as she pulled him deeper into her. "Oh, god, same, for both of you; we should have just gone upstairs that night."

"This is better," said Meredith, pleasuring herself next to them, smiling at Tom.

"Fuck, oh god, yes," said Felicity, wrapping her legs around Tom and pulling him forward. "How close are you?"

"Pretty … close," said Tom, pounding away at her.

" _Dueles_ " said Felicity, and Tom felt the closeness slip, though the pleasure built. "So we do it together."

"Right on," said Tom, and he slowed, taking his time, teasing the enjoyment into her as he speed up, slowed down, although soon enough he was going as hard as he could into her.

Soon enough Felicity's hands dug into Tom's back as she and he orgasmed and Tom pulled out of her, taking deep breaths.

"Wow. That was fantastic," said Tom, laying down beside her.

"You're not done yet, are you?" asked Felicity, straddling him.

"I'd like to recuperate for a moment," said Tom with a laugh.

"I'm game for some fun, though," said Meredith, sliding her hands down to where Tom had been moments before. In an instant, Meredith and Felicity were making out once again, and the last piece of Meredith's clothes, her skirt, came off.

"It's been a while since I've done this," said Meredith, spreading her legs perpendicular to Felicity's own spread legs. "But I think I can pick it up fast enough."

Tom propped himself up as Felicity and Meredith rubbed against one another, their lower lips giving the kisses their uppers were now to far apart to give.

"I've got some toys," began Felicity.

"Just us tonight," said Meredith between breaths. Felicity nodded and they both screamed as they orgasmed, doing on instinct with each other what had taken magic to do for Felicity and Tom.

They continued until they'd each earned another orgasm from the other, then Felicity pulled away.

"I want to see you two to show me how it's done; how a real couple like you gets it on," said Felicity.

"Fine by me," said Tom, who was recovered. "God, I've wanted you all night."

"I thought you wanted Felicity," said Meredith, slipping Tom into her and gasping.

"Different strokes; I wanted you both. I hope you don't mind," said Tom, hammering into Meredith they way she liked it.

"Oh, not at all; I wanted you both as well," said Meredith, giving Tom a kiss as he fucked her good. This wasn't lovemaking. They did that, and it was a special time when it happened. What was happening here was a night of lustful buildup, gleefully released at last.

"You two have excellent taste," said Felicity, fingering herself as she watched them go at it.

Speaking diminished as they continued, and soon grunts and moans were all that were coming from Tom and Meredith, who'd learned all the little tricks they loved about the other long ago. There was a bit of a show about it, but this was for each other. Felicity watching was just icing on the cake at a certain point.

The night went on in this manner for a while longer, each person taking the time to pleasure the others in a varying rotation. Meredith and Felicity enjoyed teasing Tom, and Felicity used magic on Tom a couple more times to keep him as ready as they were, but it got to where even the magic wasn't enough, and each of them fell exhausted into the others' arms in a big cuddle pile on the bed, the sheets long thrown to a far corner of the room.

The bed creaked in odd ways, having not been magicked this large in some time, but none of them minded. It had been a good night, after all, and since nothing restored the body like sleep they all drifted away, Meredith curled up between Tom and Felicity, all content.


	10. Breakfast at Felicity's

It had seemed like such a good idea when he'd gotten up. Meredith and Felicity were both still asleep, curled up in each other's arms. He was nude, but it felt like breakfast time, so off he went.

There had been a lacy black apron hanging in the kitchen, and so he put it on and began to prepare something to eat. Sausages, muffins, crepes, maybe some sliced fruit. The fixings for a good breakfast.

He'd just gotten the muffins into the oven and had started on the crepes when the door to the apartment opened.

"Merlin's beard, what a night. Felicity, I hope you're not naked because I'm not in the mood today," said a woman, drifting blearily into the kitchen. Tom tried to position himself in such a way as to seem both dressed and non threatening, but it was all for naught.

"Who the hell are you?" said the witch now pointing a wand at Tom. She looked like she meant business. If Felicity's daily wear had been the look of 'sexy witch librarian' as she worked in the bookstore, this woman's look was 'government special agent who happened to work in the wizarding world.'

"No one of consequence," said Tom, his eyes zeroing in on the wand in front of him. He'd remembered what Hagrid had said about memory modification, and he didn't want to forget what he was doing in someone else's kitchen while naked but for the apron.

"Shit shit shit Rachel he's a friend!" said Felicity, sliding into the kitchen wearing nothing more than a pair of panties.

"Clothes, Felicity! Wear them!" said Rachel, but she put her wand away and Tom let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "What are you doing in our kitchen?"

"Making crepes?" said Tom, giving the bowl he was holding a bit of a stir.

Rachel sighed. "I mean, why are you in our kitchen naked?"

"Well, I didn't realize that Felicity had a roommate, or I would have put on clothes when I got up this morning," said Tom.

"Well, this one's polite enough to make breakfast at least, before we give him the boot," said Rachel, turning to leave the kitchen.

"Is everything alright?" asked Meredith, dressed in her skirt and the red top.

"Another one? Felicity, what did you get up to last night? No, don't tell me now. I am going to get comfortable; you can tell me at breakfast," said Rachel, going into the room that must have been hers and closing the door behind her.

"I'll take care of the baking until you can get something on. I promise I won't burn anything," said Meredith, giving Tom a kiss and taking the crepe mix from him and pushing him towards his clothes.

"Lovely flatmate you have. Very personable," said Meredith once Tom had gone back to change and they were alone in the kitchen.

"She's an auror and can be grumpy when she gets off shift. She's really nice when she's not just finished hunting down idiots," said Felicity, taking a seat on an unoccupied piece of counter.

"And when she doesn't have to walk into her home with a naked man making crepes in her kitchen after a long shift, hmm?" said Meredith, smiling at Felicity.

"Merlin's beard, yeah. Last night was amazing, by the way. Oh, I need to go put something on before Rachel tears my head off. Be right back," said Felicity, vanishing into thin air.

The rest of the meal preparation went reasonably smoothly. Rachel came out and watched Meredith for a moment, not saying anything, content to snag a banana from a fruit basket on top of the refrigerator.

Felicity said something from her room, but nothing the Meredith could understand. When Rachel replied in a series of twitters and high pitched chirps, she realized that Rachel and Felicity had something like the girls had. Not parselmouth, but close.

"How many magical languages are there?" asked Meredith, smiling as Tom and Felicity began to make happy noises in the bedroom.

"Nimue's waters, she's …" said Rachel, trailing off into the another series of twitters and chirps, an occasional low tone emerging this time. "There's a few different varieties. Snakes, Birds, Felines, and Canines are the ones you'll find most often in Britain, though. I hear that there are a couple of Parselmouths at Hogwarts this year, in fact. That's …"

"Snake speakers, yes. They love to speak it at home. We thought it was just a strange language they made up until Professor McGonagall told us it was a genuine wizarding talent," said Meredith.

"Wait, you're their parents… and you're muggles? But that's impossible! This kind of talent is passed in the blood. I mean, it can be taught, but only by someone who already speaks it," said Rachel, pacing the kitchen.

"Well, Rosalina taught Hermione, and we adopted Rosalina, so maybe one of her parents could speak it," said Meredith, pouring the crepes out onto the pan to begin cooking them.

"Well, maybe, but the only person in recent memory I can think of that spoke it was ... no, that's impossible. It'd be like Father Christmas having babies. It can't be," said Rachel, shaking her head as if it was covered in spider webs.

"Out with it. Who," said Meredith, setting the bowl of crepes down hard and attending to those in the pan. "Everyone's been cagey around us about their being Parselmouths and I have absolutely no idea why and it is driving me starkers."

"You Know Who could speak it," said Rachel, the words leaving her mouth like nothing in the world could stop them. "There's really no one else I know of. There could be some other connection, some other Parselmouth, but that's the kind of secret that slips out fast, although I can't imagine why he'd send his child to a muggle family."

"You Know Who. The dark wizard. The one who nearly brought Britain to ruin. The one all those 'recent wizarding history' books keep talking about. That's who you think her father is?" said Meredith, her eyes narrowing at Rachel.

"Everyone's thinking it, I'm just saying it," said Rachel, raising her hands. "It's a chance. It's a … slim … chance. An impossible chance, really it's a nonsense chance. Just idle thinking. It is curious, though," and Meredith could almost see the switch go on in her mind. Gone was Rachel the civilian and in her place was Rachel the auror.

"She's gifted and driven, they're gifted and driven, Hermione and Rosalina both. We're very proud of them," said Meredith, flipping the crepe as aggressively as she could.

"You should be. Hogwarts is a very good school, one of the best. They're very lucky," said Rachel, and the tension in the room eased out.

"Something smells burning!" said Tom, and he burst out from Felicity's room. He was now wearing pants, but nothing else. Felicity followed behind him, wearing his button up shirt like a nightie. It was a rather cute look for her, and Meredith smiled.

"It's fine, Tom," said Meredith, but she laughed and gave way to him as he rushed to save the crepes, which were fine, as were the muffins.

Conversation took a lighter tone after that. Tom finished breakfast preparations, and Rachel hung out with them in the kitchen as Tom fluttered about. Felicity gave Meredith a peck, and Meredith could smell the sex on her.

"Seems like you had a good start to your morning," whispered Meredith into Felicity's ear. "I hope to get a chance with you next time."

Felicity blushed scarlett and nodded, the red flush in her cheeks speaking for itself.

Rachel just shook her head, but said nothing.

"So, sisters, right? Did you both know it or did one of you teach the other? It took Hermione ages to learn from Rosalina," asked Tom, and Rachel's eyes nearly bugged out of her head.

"What‽ I mean, sisters, and we both can just speak it. But, what?" asked Rachel, still staring at Tom.

"Well, I mean," and Tom shrugged. "I figured what with the magic language you two have going on like our girls do and the way you talk to each other, what else could you be?"

Rachel stared at Tom for a moment before shaking her head. "You're too clever for your own good. It's going to get you into trouble one day," said Rachel, giving Tom a half smile.

"That's what people keep telling me, but I've been fine so far," said Tom, finishing the last crepe with a flourish. "Breakfast is served!"

Breakfast went smoothly. Felicity and Rachel both complemented them over and over about Tom's cooking, which they both professed to be no good at. After that, they got their things sorted out, each one finding the various components of their outfits from the night before.

"I'll see if I can get you hooked up to the Floo network. You're muggles, but your daughters are both witches and I've got some strings I can pull down there. It's the least I can do," said Rachel as they prepared to go, giving Meredith a slight nod.

"Thank you. Much appreciated," said Meredith, taking hold of Felicity's arm as Tom took hold of the other one.

"I promised I'd help Rachel clean up around the house, but we should do this again sometime!" said Felicity after she dropped them off.

"Agreed!" said Meredith, and Felicity smiled, then vanished into thin air.


	11. The Nature of Magic

Rosalina’s and Hermione’s first week went by in a flash of classes, each one more bizarre than the last. English was … English , and so hadn’t changed much except that the first class was about how to write with a quill and ink, instead of pens or pencils. There was a great deal of blotting of pages from everyone, so they didn’t feel too far behind.

“Professor Strenn, why can’t we use pens or something like that?” Rosalina asked at one point after having blotted her page for what felt like the twentieth time.

“Because you can charm a quill to refill itself from a pot of ink, whereas a muggle pen is useless after it runs dry,” said Professor Strenn, and that was all he would hear of the matter. Pansy Parkinson, having been using quill and ink since she was first starting to write, laughed. Draco chuckled for a moment, but stopped when he saw Rosalina scowling at Pansy.

If Rosalina had known any curses she would have thrown them at Pansy the moment they got out of class, but this was one of the things that her parents hadn’t allowed her to learn at home.

_Want bite?_ asked Finley, slithering around her neck. Her teachers hadn’t minded him, so she’d taken to bringing him to class with her.

_No bite. Thank you though,_ hissed Rosalina, giving him a pat on the head.

Professor McGonagall was stern, even to the Gryffindors, just as Felicity had said, but it was exciting. She spent a great deal of time explaining the hows of magic, and it was only at the end of the lesson did she start to get them to do actual, honest to goodness magic. Hermione grasped the practical nature of the lesson and was able to kind of use it to transfigure a wooden match into a steel match, but that’s as far as she got. This still earned her praise, or what counted for praise, from Professor McGonagall.

“At least you got it to change. I wasn’t able to do anything to it,” said Rosalina that evening. They’d found that, while you were encouraged to sit with your house, you didn’t have to. As such, Rosalina would join the Gryffindors at times, while Hermione would join the Slytherins at others.

Neither house was fine with this, but when Dumbledore commented on how nice it was to see the two houses working together they stopped grumbling. Well, out loud at least.

“Mine got pointed,” said Daphne Greengrass, another first year.

“It did? I missed that! Well done!” said Rosalina, beaming at her classmate as she fed Finley a mouse. She didn’t know how he’d done it, but Professor Snape had given her a special plate that, if set out, would manifest a dead mouse for Finley at the same time the other dishes would manifest food if she brought it with her to meals. It was equal parts horrifying and fascinating to her fellow Slytherins. (“That’s Professor Snape for you,” said one sixth year).

“How? I could only get it to go steely,” asked Hermione, forgetting where she was sitting.

This earned her a raised eyebrow from Daphne and a chuckle from Pansy.

“Like we’d tell you,” said Pansy with a sneer, and Goyle let out a snort. Neither of them had managed to get theirs to change even one iota.

“It’s all in how you see it. You’ve got to keep it in your mind’s eye,” said Draco, giving Rosalina a little glance as he spoke. He’d not managed to get it to change in any noticeable way, but Professor McGonagall had still commented on his progress regardless.

Hermione pulled a notebook out from nowhere and wrote that down, and Draco smiled and sat back in his seat, preening a bit.

Potions was interesting. Draco made a point of sitting with Hermione after this, and Rosalina sat with Neville. Harry sat with Ron, staring at both Granger sisters like they were out of their minds.

The big take-away from the lesson was that while Professor Snape could be a strict teacher, he _hated_ Harry. He asked him a series of questions at the beginning of the lesson, and while it quickly became obvious that Harry didn’t know what the answer to any of them was, Professor Snape ignored Hermione when she tried to answer them.

The first potion they were set to brew was a simple one to cure boils, and while Hermione and Draco managed to do well enough, Draco even earning a smattering of praise from Snape, Rosalina and Neville’s potion was a series of near disasters. With Rosalina’s help nothing went catastrophically wrong, but it was obvious that Neville had no head for potions.

“It’s just like cooking. We can work on it next time,” said Rosalina to Neville, who sulked.

“He hates me, I just know it. He was glowering at me the whole class,” said Neville, taking his time in putting his books away.

“No, he hates Harry, or he would ignored Hermione to call on you too,” said Rosalina and at this Neville smiled.

“Thanks. I probably would have, I dunno, melted the cauldron if you hadn’t been my partner,” said Neville, finishing putting his books away.

Rosalina laughed. “You wouldn’t have! Nobody’s that bad. Just a little off when it comes to reading directions, that’s all.”

Finley and Trevor, for their part, got on well enough. Finley had no idea what to do around another living animal in human spaces while Trevor was unconcerned by the predator near him.

It was Professor Flitwick’s class that really shook up their understanding of how the world worked. Hermione’s class with the Gryffindors was reasonably straightforward. Learn the basic principles of magic, like with Professor McGonagall, make light appear at the end of your wand. That’s it. No one questioned why it did what it did, they just said the word and tried the charm.

Rosalina’s class, however, had Crabbe.

“So just keep the light in your mind, say ‘lumos’ and the light will appear on your wand,” said Professor Flitwick

“Why?” asked Crabbe.

“Why what?” asked Professor Flitwick, eyes peering at Crabbe.

“Why lumos? Why not some other word? Why is it that lumos makes the light?” asked Crabbe. Crabbe was a bit slow at times, so he took a bit to catch up to the rest of the class.

“Because that’s the word you need to say for it to work,” said Pansy, and half the class snickered.

“That is almost, but not quite, entirely wrong, Ms Parkinson,” said Professor Flitwick, eyes shining, and the class went quiet. “The correct spellform is important because, done properly, it tell the mechanisms by which established magical systems function what to do and how to do it. Done improperly and nothing happens, or worse, old magic is let loose.”

“What’s so bad about letting loose old magic?” asked Draco, leaning forward in his seat.

“Nothing if you’re fine with having uncontrollable magic set about, doing whatever it wants because you don’t know how to stop it,” said Professor Flitwick, smiling. “Now, wands out!”

A few people in the class were able to get little flickers of light, but only Draco was able to get it to sustain itself in any real way. Rosalina and Pansy were able to get theirs to spark a few times, but nothing lasting.

“I guess you need to come from a real wizarding family if you want to do proper magic,” said Pansy as they left class.

“I didn’t see your light lasting any longer than mine did,” said Rosalina, gripping her wand tight.

“I didn’t even get a flicker,” said Crabbe, plodding along beside them.

“That’s cause you’re thick,” said Goyle, who snickered at this like it was the greatest joke he’d ever told.

“Like you’re one to talk. I bet you’d fool around with that … that old magic Professor Flitwick talked about,” said Crabbe, and he gave Goyle a punch in the arm.

This was not the friendly kind of punch that Hermione and Rosalina tended to give each other when the other was being cheeky, something that Draco and Rosalina realized at the same time.

“Did either of you get yours to light?” asked Draco, turning to stare at his friends.

“No,” they said together, defeated, and the fight died down as fast as it started.

“We can figure it out together, then!” said Rosalina, and Crabbe lit up at this, though Goyle didn’t seem any happier.

“But you’re a mud … muggleborn,” said Goyle, catching Draco’s eye before he could finish.

“A mud muggleborn? What’s a mud muggleborn?” asked Rosalina, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing! It’s nothing,” said Crabbe, glaring at Goyle again.

“What he must have meant to say was …” began Pansy, but she stopped when Daphne came out from the classroom.

“Nothing. A mud muggleborn is nothing. A muggleborn, though, is a witch or wizard whose parents are muggles,” said Daphne, and Pansy wilted.

“The Grangers aren’t my parents. Well, I mean, they are, but not my biological ones. I’m adopted,” said Rosalina.

“Is Hermione adopted too? Because if you’re both adopted that would make explain how you’re both Parselmouths,” said Crabbe, grinning like he’d just deciphered a great mystery.

“What are you talking about?” asked Rosalina. She’d thought about coming out as a Parselmouth at first, but once she saw the student body collectively panic at the notion of not one but three Parselmouths at Hogwarts in the first year class as the rumor mill churned, she tried to keep it to herself, nevermind saying anything about Hermione.

“We heard you talking with her in Parseltongue before the Sorting Ceremony and since you’re sisters it makes sense that you’re both adopted,” said Crabbe. He’d seemed unsure of himself at first, but he’d started to smile once he got to the end of what he was saying.

“I taught Hermione how to speak Parseltongue ages ago and I still can’t see what makes it so bad or odd that we have muggle parents even if we can speak Parseltongue,” said Rosalina.

“But mudbloods can’t be Parselmouths! It’s a wizarding talent, you have to have it in the blood!” said Goyle, preemptively wincing when Crabbe turned to glare at him.

“Mudblood. That’s another new one. What’s a mudblood?” asked Rosalina, turning to look at Goyle. She gave him a sweet, toothy smile, the kind of smile that brought to mind wolves and small furry woodland creatures.

“Nothing, it’s nothing, slip of the tongue,” said Goyle, who knew this smile, had given this smile to others.

“It sounded like something. What’s a mudblood, Gregory?” asked Rosalina, her hands going behind her back as she leaned in towards Goyle. Daphne said nothing this time.

“It’s a better name for a witch with muggle parents. I mean, real muggle parents,” said Pansy, trying and failing to stifle a giggle. “Like Hermione. She’s a real down and dirty one. You’re probably not one, but you’re not much better than one considering you parents. Oh, sorry,  _ adopted _ parents.”

“Oh. Mudblood. Because she’s a muggleborn, and her blood is mud. Rather than pure, like yours. I get it,” said Rosalina, who chuckled a bit at this. “Thank you for explaining.”Pansy smirked a bit, then turned to Daphne to say something.

This was a mistake.

Rosalina plowed into Pansy with a roar of fury, knocking her to the ground, books and wands tossed across the hall, all sense of magic forgotten. Pansy tried to push Rosalina back, but Rosalina didn’t budge even a little bit.

“Never! Insult! My! Sister!” said Rosalina, punctuating each word with a punch to Pansy’s perfect face as she straddled Pansy’s chest.

Pansy tried to reach for her wand, which was just out of reach, but Rosalina grabbed her hand and squeezed, and Pansy shreaked and stopped. Rosalina held on to the hand, though, pinning it to the ground.

“Now! I have! To use! My! Offhand! I hate! Using! My offhand! To punch!” said Rosalina, slamming her left fist into Pansy’s side.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa!”_ said Professor Flitwick, and the crowd that had formed around the two of them parted as Rosalina floated into the air. Pansy, though free of Rosalina, didn’t move. She was a battered, bruised mess.

“Ms Greengrass, please escort Ms Parkinson to the hospital wing. Ms Granger, my office. Now,” said Professor Flitwick, setting Rosalina down on the ground and picking up a panicked Finley, who’d fallen with Rosalina’s bag and been forgotten about in the skuffle. There was no twinkle in his eye, and he did not seem at all amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! This chapter is a little different than it had been. This is for narrative flow.


	12. Mr Filch

“Completely unbecoming behavior in a student, much less a Slytherin. What were you thinking, Ms Granger?” asked Professor Snape. Professor Flitwick had messaged him while they were walking back to his office so her head of house was waiting there for her when they arrived. They were now in his office, a dark, brooding place in the dungeon near his classroom.

“She called Hermione a mudblood, and I know a slur when I hear one!” said Rosalina, and Professor Snape took a deep breath.

“If that was true it would be a serious accusation. However, Mr Malfoy, Mr Crabbe, Mr Goyle and Ms Greengrass each deny that she ever said the anything of the sort, and I’m sure Ms Parkinson will agree with them once her jaw has been fully repaired,” said Professor Snape. “As such, you will be serving in detention.”

“And what about Pansy? Will she be in detention?” asked Rosalina, arms crossed.

“Ms Parkinson is currently recovering from her wounds in the hospital wing. That is punishment enough, I’m sure,” said Professor Snape.

Rosalina opened her mouth, then closed it and nodded.

“Completely fair,” said Rosalina.

The rest of the day was slow enough. The other Slytherins ignored her, and Pansy, who’d been patched up by Madam Pomfrey in a few minute’s time, didn’t meet her in the eyes. Rosalina figured that under normal circumstances she’d be crowing at Rosalina’s punishment, but fear overrode that, which suited Rosalina just fine.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle didn’t talk to her at all either, which was fine by her, given their rather idiotic decision to take Pansy’s side in the matter. Crabbe at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

Daphne was … Daphne, as Rosalina was beginning to understand at dinner.

“She didn’t actually say mudblood. She said terrible things, but she didn’t say mudblood, which is all Professor Snape asked us about, and you know how he can be about offering him things he doesn’t ask for,” said Daphne, spooning a healthy amount of roasted vegetables onto her plate from the steaming dish in front of her.

It bristled Rosalina, but she was right.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have punched her anyway. Not supposed to be punching people. Mum and dad will be furious,” said Rosalina, shoulders slumping, pushing the food around on her own plate.

“Why should they be? It’s not like Professor Snape will write them, and he’s probably only punishing you to discourage everyone else. The Hufflepuffs won’t stop talking about it and there’s been a of couple of Gryffindor boys who’ve been looking over at you since dinner started. Unless you’re planning to write them,” said Daphne, raising an eyebrow.

“Hermione probably will. She doesn’t think I should punch people either, even if it’s for her. Especially if it’s for her,” said Rosalina. Hermione had not joined them at the Slytherin table for diner this time, and Malfoy seemed as hurt by this as anything else. He tried to play it off and play the cocky, together one, but when Hermione didn’t talk to him in the hall, Rosalina knew that he knew that he’d messed up.

“Sounds like you need to learn some curses then. I know a couple, if you’re interested,” said Crabbe, the words spilling out from him like water from a dam, and he went red.

“Curses? You know curses?” asked Rosalina, eyebrow raised.

“Nothing nasty! Just, you know, effective ones,” said Crabbe, looking down at his plate. Goyle and Malfoy chuckled a bit at this. Pansy glared at him.

“I like effective. Effective is nice,” said Rosalina, smiling at him. Goyle and Malfoy stopped laughing at that.

Crabbe looked up and, seeing her smile, grinned in turn, a big toothy thing. He screwed up his eyes and took a big breath.

“I could help Hermione out, too, if you … if she’s interested,” said Crabbe, biting his lower lip.

“I’ll ask her,” said Rosalina, and that was that. She was still cross with him, and Crabbe knew it, but at least he was treating Hermione like a person.

That’s when the owl dropped her a note written to her from Mr Filch.

“Why would Mr Filch send you a letter?” asked Daphne, leaning in to take a look.

“I’m to meet him at seven in the front hall. I’m doing detention with him,” said Rosalina, and everyone but Pansy shuddered, who tried to stifle a laugh.

“I don’t envy you there. He’s a real monster. I guess Snape wants to prove a point,” said Daphne. “Let me know how it goes when you get out of it.”

The two Gryffindor boys that Daphne was talking about were, in fact, the Weasley twins, and they caught up with her after dinner before she went out to the front hall.

“We heard what you did to that other Slytherin girl,” said the first twin.

“Well done! We couldn’t be prouder of you,” said the second twin.

“Never thought we’d see the day we were proud of a Slytherin, but here it is,” said the first twin.

“You should have been with us in Gryffindor,” said the second twin.

“Thank you, both of you,” said Rosalina, shrinking at the sudden barrage of attention.

“But that’s not what we’re over here to talk about,” said the first twin quickly.

“We’re here to ask if you want to learn how to be a beater. You’ve got it in you, with an arm like that. All you need is someone …”

“Or someones …”

“To teach you. What do you think?” finished the second twin.

“A what? What’s a beater? I thought I wasn’t to be beating up on people at Hogwarts,” said Rosalina, moving closer to the twins.

“It’s a kind of quidditch player. They defend against bludgers. We’re the Gryffindor beaters, but we figure with a bit of teaching you could make for a good Slytherin beater,” said the first twin.

“Why would you want to teach me, then? Wouldn’t I be playing against you?” asked Rosalina.

“Yeah, but it’d be more fun if the Slytherin team had an unbeatable beater that had been trained by us. Stupid blighters won’t train you themselves, I can tell you that right now. If you thought that girl you beat up was bad, wait till you get to experience the older ones in the wild,” said the second twin.

“And if you’re already good when you go to try out, they’ll have to take you or be laughed at,” said the first twin.

Rosalina considered this. They seemed like fun, and doing something like this seemed like fun as well. It was self serving on their part, but everything was self serving at some level, wasn’t it?

“I’m in. I need to get to my detention with Mr Filch, but let’s try to figure out a time!” said Rosalina, and both twins broke into grins.

“Splendid! Oh, and I’m Fred,” said the first twin.

“And I’m George,” said the second.

“A pleasure to meet you officially and formally,” they said in unison.

“And you as well,” said Rosalina, giving them a little curtsy before turning to rush down the hall.

“I like her,” she heard the twins say as she left, and she blushed.

Filch was waiting for her when she got to the front hall, nevermind that she was early.

“Good, you’re here. Put these on,” said Filch, not giving her a moment to ask what she was to do as he passed her a box of, of all things, size small latex gloves.

“These don’t seem very magical,” said Rosalina, surprised that Filch had gloves that fit her.

“They’re practical. They don’t need to be magic. Everything doesn’t need to be magic to work,” said Filch, putting on his own pair of gloves. “Now come along. Paintings don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Where are we going?” asked Rosalina, running to keep up with Filch as he pushed a cart towards the hall.

“First, we’re picking up  _ The Ladies of the Nightingale _ , which Peeves has ruined yet again,” said Filch, growling as he spoke. “Then we go to my workshop to begin cleaning it.”

“Haven’t ruined it! Made it better!” said Peeves, throwing an open jar of paint down onto them, then flying away laughing, the paint only missing Rosalina because Filch moved in front of her to block it.

“May the dark things take that infernal pest!” said Filch, grimacing. “Right. Once we get the painting down to my workshop, we go to Madam Pomfrey after, then back to work on it.”

“Are you alright?” asked Rosalina. Filch had moved almost as soon as Peeves had, well before she’d had any time to perceive what was about to happen.

“Glass. Back. Not a good mix. I’ll be fine for now; come help me with this,” said Filch, going over to a painting that was, much to Rosalina’s relief, near to the ground.

Peeves had indeed worked his magic upon it as each of the ladies of the painting now sported rather dashing mustaches, mustaches they were trying very hard to pull off. Rosalina would have been impressed had she not known that this was not how this painting was supposed to be.

“I thought you had to do magic … stuff … to the painting for things like that to stick, or it’d be like painting something on a telly,” said Rosalina, taking another look at the mustaches. They seemed to move about the painting with the figures with it.

“Takes enchanted paint and a skilled hand to change a painting like this once it’s been livened up,” said Filch, leaning in to take a look at the mustaches himself. “Right, you get that end, I’ll get this one, and we’ll move it down to my workshop. Careful where you put your hands.”

Rosalina moved into position to match Filch and, doing her best to not touch the paint itself, lifted the painting off the wall. It wasn’t heavy, which was nice, but it was very bulky.

“How do you manage this normally?” asked Rosalina, shifting her grip a bit.

“Carefully and slowly. Good help is rare,” said Filch, tottering down the hall backwards. “Don’t fidget with it so much, we don’t want it to tip over. It would be unfortunate if this  _ several hundred year old _ painting were to rip.”

“Got it, don’t tip,” said Rosalina, looking down the hall again and shifting her grip again.

It took well over an hour to get it back to Filch’s workshop, mostly because Filch had to keep stopping to collect himself and will his way past the growing pain in his back.

“Damn that poltergeist,” said Filch after one such stop.

“Do wizards curse? Like, say curse words, I mean,” asked Rosalina. Filch had been the first person at Hogwarts she’d heard to use what she would consider a ‘normal’ curse, rather than ‘Nimue’s’ this or ‘Merlin’s’ that.

“Of course they do. They just can’t blaspheme when they curse,” said Filch, moving on once again. “It doesn’t do to get on the bad side of a god if you’ve got magic ready to hand.”

“Gods are real? How many?” asked Rosalina, but Filch sushed her.

“This isn’t the place for that kind of talk. Don’t want to attract attention from them,” said Filch, and that was that.

Filch’s workshop was massive. It was as if he’d overtaken one of the dungeons and sealed as much damp and moisture away as he could.

“I thought that technology didn’t work at Hogwarts?” asked Rosalina, in awe of the chained series of actual light bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

“Fancy new technology doesn’t. Anything post-World War Two, really, but other than that, it’s just lazy thinking,” said Filch, throwing a switch on the wall that flared every light into life. “One of the big secrets of being Hogwarts’ caretaker. The most difficult part is keeping the generator going.”

“There’s a generator‽” asked Rosalina, but that was all Filch would say about that as well.

The rest of detention was far less exciting, for the most part. She and Filch walked up to Madam Pomfrey, who scolded Filch for taking a hit like that to the back (“Honestly, if it wasn’t me doing the fixing that could have done a real number on you, Mr Filch!”) and then Rosalina watched Filch restore the painting.

She had so many question to ask Filch, but she knew he was in the thinking place that her dad would get into when he was working out a new recipe or painting a miniature, so she left him be.

The most peculiar thing about it all was that the figures in the painting were perfectly still. She’d only ever seen them in motion and had no idea that they could stop. She wanted to ask about this too.

Filch, for his part, took time enough to show her where the various materials were through his workshop, enough that he could halfway call for a material and she could get it without even a hint of a grumble. It was such a nice rhythm that she found that she was disappointed when Filch finally got up from the painting.

“Is it finished?” asked Rosalina, leaning in over his shoulder to look at the painting herself.

“It isn’t, but it’s late enough that I’d call this a detention well served. You’ve learned your lesson, have you?” asked Filch, suddenly the stern disciplinarian again.

“Yes. Don’t get caught next time,” said Rosalina. She clasped her hands to her mouth as soon as the words left her and her cheeks went bright red, but Filch just chuckled.

“That’s one lesson. The other is don’t do it again although if you get smarter about revenge you won’t need to worry about being found out,” said Filch, and he gave her a wink. “Do you need help finding your way back to the Slytherin dungeon?”

“No, I’ve got it. Thank you, though,” said Rosalina. As she went to the door she swore she saw five cats peek out at her before vanishing again. They all looked the same. She looked back at Filch, but he just put a finger to his lips.

“There’s only one cat down here,” said Filch with a smile, and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to Mr Jim Butcher and the Dresden Files for some of the changes I've made to magic


	13. The Muggle Tutor

Breakfast Saturday morning was interesting, to say the least.

“He was! He was a little gruff at first, but I think he’s really just lonely,” said Rosalina, scowling at Ron and Harry, who’d both seemed to warm up to her once again.

“Filch? The caretaker? Mean old man, loves his cat? That’s who we’re talking about, right?” said Ron, eyes wide.

“Yes. He was very interesting. I don’t think many students ever get to see him at work,” said Rosalina.

“We’ve seen him scowling through the halls loads of times, and never once has he even shown a glimmer of happiness,” said Ron, scarfing down more toast.

“Maybe you caught him at a good moment?” said Hermione. Filch had been nicer to her than not as well, but she had no idea why. He’d grumble at her about something that could get someone else a good yelling at. It was peculiar.

It was then that a pair of owls flew in above them, dropping Hermione and Rosalina each a letter from Professor McGonagall.

_ Your tutor will be arriving after breakfast. Meet him in the front hall once you’ve finished ~ Professor McGonagall _

“What’s it say?” asked Harry, leaning in over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Our tutor has arrived. Our parents want us to keep up with our muggle school subjects and Professor McGonagall agreed,” said Hermione, smiling at Harry and Ron.

“Muggle studies? You’ve got even more homework? Your parents are mental!” said Ron, stopping his feasting at last so that he could stare at them.

“Just because you don’t want to learn anything doesn’t mean we don’t,” said Hermione, setting her letter down.

“Thanks for the thought, mum and dad,” muttered Rosalina, sulking. She’d not been nearly as big a fan of this plan as Hermione had been.

“What kind of stuff do they teach muggles anyway? Why do you need to know it? It’s not like it matters, what with your magic and stuff,” said Ron between bites.

“Chemistry and math and logic and all sorts of interesting things! I’m so excited,” said Hermione, almost bouncing in her seat.

“I’m looking forward to getting history. Professor Binns has done a great job of it so far. I love getting two naps a day,” said Rosalina, putting her head down on the Gryffindor table.

“I hope it’s a witch tutor, so at least we’ll learn something interesting,” said Hermione. She had to admit that of all her classes, History of Magic was the one she liked the least. It wasn’t that it wasn’t interesting so much as Professor Binns had a way of pulling the fun out of everything. Harry and Ron didn’t even pretend to pay attention and, although she’d never admit it to them, it took everything she had to not drift off to sleep herself.

“Will you have time to help me practice for potions, Rosalina? I know that some tutors can be strict about that sort of thing and we’d only gotten the time for using the kitchens this afternoon,” said Neville, half smiles and half nerves.

“I’ll let our tutor know, I’m sure they’ll be fine with it. Besides, this can’t take all day, can it?” said Rosalina, perking up at this.

“I mean, it might, if he’s meeting with us today,” said Hermione, now frowning and looking closer at her letter. “It doesn’t say when he’s showing up, or when we’re meeting him. Just … just that we are.”

“Odd. Maybe we’ll just run into him,” said Rosalina with a shrug. “In any case, I’m done eating. I say we head out and see if we can sneak into the Forbidden Forest and see what’s in there.”

“You’re mental. That’s dangerous, that is. I heard that there’s werewolves in there, whole packs of them,” said Ron with a shudder.

“Good luck!” said Fred, giving her a thumbs up from down the table.

“Neville, let’s meet in the kitchen around three. That’ll probably give us enough time to get everything together,” said Rosalina, beaming at Neville, who grinned back.

“Thanks again,” said Neville.

“Come on, Minnie,” said Rosalina, dragging her sister away from the table.

“But I’ve got so many books to read,” said Hermione, not really protesting all that much.

They went down to the front door of the castle and had only just stepped out when they saw, all things considered, the oddest thing they’d ever seen at Hogwarts.

It was a car. An old car, that chittered and banged as it drove up the way, though it was in kind of pristine condition that made it obvious that it was the only one of its kind. There might have been a roof to it, but it was pulled down at the moment and the man driving it road up with his hair flying free in the wind.

“I didn’t think cars could work at Hogwarts,” said Hermione, eyes wide.

“Well, the train does, so it goes to follow that a car should work too,” said Rosalina, eyes fixed on it.

“But Hogwarts, A History … technology doesn’t work at Hogwarts!” said Hermione.

“Maybe cars are special,” said Rosalina.

The man pulled to a stop in front of the gate and leapt out from the front seat with a jump that seemed almost rehearsed. He got out a wand and with a flick a trunk floated up from the backseat and followed after him as he went up the steps.

“Ah, good morning Professor McGonagall, Mr Filch! You two must be Rosalina and Hermione,” said the man with a grin.

“Indeed,” said Professor McGonagall from behind them, and Hermione and Rosalina nearly jumped out of their skins when they heard her voice. Professor McGonagall could be sneaky when she wanted. “Hermione, Rosalina, this is Mr Potts. He shall be your muggle studies tutor.”

Mr Potts was not what they’d expected. They’d been thinking they were going to get some manner of magical teacher, whereas Mr Potts was the very image of a muggle, wearing a tweed jacket and trousers. He was young, too. At least, younger than every other teacher they’d seen at Hogwarts.

“Well, not Muggle Studies, persay. Just muggle school subjects. I don’t want to step on any toes,” said Mr Potts, the grin not leaving his face.

“Entirely reasonable. Mr Potts, I have arranged for you to have an office and a classroom so that you can stretch out as you see fit. If you will follow me,” said Professor McGonagall, turning to lead them back into the school.

“Erm, begging your pardon, Professor, but I’d thought I could ask Henry, I mean, Mr Potts, well,” said Mr Filch, his hands twisting about in front of him as he trailed off.

“Ah, yes. Mr Potts, if that’s alright?” asked Professor McGonagall, eyebrow raise.

“Of course! Don’t break her,” said Mr Potts, laughing, and he tossed Mr Filch a set of keys. “And she still runs with gas, so leave me enough of a tank to get home on.”

“Of course. You’re very kind,” said Mr Filch, who looked as if Christmas had come early and all the students had vanished with it. He bounded down the stairs and toppled into the car. The machine roared to life, emitted a series of loud bangs, and Mr Filch tore off, screaming like a banshee as he went, nevermind the grass on the lawn.

“He’ll be fine,” said Mr Potts, though Professor McGonagall didn’t look as though she believe him. There was another loud series of bangs and they heard Mr Filch let out a delighted whoop, followed by a string of curses from Hagrid. “Probably.”

“I do expect you to help Hagrid and Professor Sprout restore any damage to the grounds your device may incur, Mr Potts,” said Professor McGonagall, lips pursed.

“That’s fair,” said Mr Potts, the smile never leaving his face. “Shall we begin your first lesson, then, girls?” He turned to face Hermione and Rosalina, and Hermione wondered if he ever didn’t smile. It was nice, but a little odd. Most of Professor McGonagall’s former students panicked when she had that tone of voice, from what she’d heard from Felicity, but he was calm. Collected.

Curious.

“Don’t you need to know what we know before we can start?” asked Hermione, and Mr Potts shrugged.

“It helps. That’s why the first lesson is me talking with the two of you. Professor, you mentioned an office?” said Mr Potts, and Professor McGonagall nodded.

“If you will follow me,” said Professor McGonagall and she led them into Hogwarts with their trailing behind her like ducklings following their mother, Mr Potts included.

“Um, Mr Potts, how long do you think this lesson will take?” asked Rosalina, thinking of Neville and his attempting to cook on his own.

“If things go well, we should be done by lunch, I think,” said Mr Potts, screwing up his face as he spoke. It looked as if he was counting numbers that made sense only to him.

“So, by three for sure, then? Because I’m meeting with someone to help them get a grasp on Potions,” said Rosalina, and Mr Potts perked up at that.

“Oh, chemistry? An excellent idea! I don’t think enough of our folk put any real consideration into the sciences, to be honest. I’m glad that you’re thinking on your toes!” said Mr Potts. Hermione beamed. This was the kind of teacher that she loved.

“I was actually going to teach him to bake,” said Rosalina, a little quieter than before.

“Even better! Baking is a science. A science and an art, much like potions can be. A fine plan,” said Mr Potts, and a smile crept onto Rosalina’s face.

“Maybe today won’t be so bad after all, Minnie,” said Rosalina, and Hermione smiled.


	14. Thistledown

“You know, I bet I could make a potion. It’s not like there’s any magic in it,” said Tom, as he browsed through  _ A Beginner’s Guide to Potions: Catching Up on What You Forgot From Hogwarts  _ (by Elizabeth Widdershins) in what could be called the ‘Remedial Magical Learning’ section of Flourish and Blotts.

Rachel had managed, through means unknown to both Tom and Meredith and Felicity, to connect their home to the Floo network. They knew that she’d had to call in a number of favors to do it and Tom and Meredith had had to promise to meet with Felicity and Rachel for Brunch every Sunday, but they could travel freely through their now magical fireplace. As such, the Grangers had started heading out to Diagon Alley on the regular.

“There’s more to potions than just putting things into a pot and mixing them, Tom,” said Felicity, stocking books during the shop’s current slow period.

“Well, I suppose, but there doesn’t seem to ever be any casting involved. Just putting the ingredients with magical bits in at the right time, and even I could do that. It’s like baking a good quiche, but the quiche is magical and fixes your warts too,” said Tom, flipping to another page in the book.

“Or gives you hives if you get it wrong; Tom you can’t just play around with this stuff,” said Meredith, looking through  _ The Magic of Housecleaning: Simple Ways to Make Your Home Shine! _ a few shelves down. They’d already had a visit from a Mr Arthur Weasley of the Ministry of Magic in which they only evaded a memory wipe because Tom had promised to teach him about spark plugs (“I mean, we’re already in the know so this was just a household accident, really”).

“I’ll start with something simple, don’t worry. Learn to walk before you learn to run. Besides, I could just write to Professor Snape if I really find myself in a pickle,” said Tom, which earned a gasp, followed by a sort of hacking cough, from Felicity and a huge laugh from Mr Blott.

“There’s a lot of things you could do, Mr Granger. I’d not suggest writing to Severus Snape unless you want a rude letter in reply for wasting his time,” said Mr Blott.

“Fair enough. Shouldn’t bother a working professional with amatur questions, now should I?” said Tom, flipping a few more pages into the book.

“I hope you’re not getting your hopes up, Tom. You’d need to show you were a wizard if you wanted to buy any of the magical ingredients you’d need to make those spells work,” said Felicity, not looking up at him as she stocked books.

“Could I buy a wand?” asked Tom, and Mr Blott howled with laughter yet again.

“You need to be a wizard to use a wand, Mr Granger,” said Mr Blott.

“No, I need to be magical to use a wand. The girls let me take a look at theirs, so it’s not like it’d kick me back across the room if I just picked one up. I’d think that I just need money if I simply wanted to buy it,” said Tom, adding the book to his growing stack.

“Not if you want a wand from Ollivander,” said Mr Blott in a way that suggested that was that.

“Unless he want to Thistledown’s Emporium in Knock Turn Alley,” said Felicity, the words escaping before she could stop them, and she went red.

“That’s the little shop just past the Werewolf’s Howl, isn’t it?” asked Meredith, looking up from her own book.

“Yes, and it’s a degenerate, nasty place that I wouldn’t recommend to a fine pair of muggles such as yourselves,” said Mr Blott, sniffing at this.

“Right then. Fairly warned. Meredith, I think that I have all the books I need for now, how about you?” asked Tom, clearing his throat.

“I think I do as well,” said Meredith, closing her book with a sharp snap.

Once they’d bought their goods and gotten a pretty smile from Felicity (“Meet me tonight at the Werewolf’s Howl, you’re in for a treat!”), they began to walk towards Knock Turn Alley.

“I wonder if you just need the wand to get in through the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron,” asked Meredith, who’d started to get better at spotting the Leaky Cauldron without having to guess at where the door was. It still took Tom a bit of feeling about to find it if Meredith wasn’t helping him.

“I’d just be happy to wave it around and act like I actually know what I’m doing,” said Tom, toppling his books into a bag that had been extended by Felicity (“I’m not really supposed to do this sort of thing without official notice, but it’s you two and everyone’s done it to something on the sly”).

“But doesn’t everyone already know that we’re muggles?” asked Meredith. They still gathered stares whenever they walked through Diagon Alley, even after several weeks of visiting.

“Maybe, but we perhaps we simply don’t look wizardly enough,” said Tom, looking down at his own clothes and frowning. He always felt rather dapper when they went out, but they never seemed to be quite right here.

Before they’d even had time to really start having a talk, they were there. If this had been their first time to either Diagon or Knock Turn Alley, they would have walked by the shop half a dozen times before they found it, but they’d gotten the sense of the place after a few visits.

When they entered, they could tell that Thistledown’s Emporium was a wizarding shop’s wizarding shop. Lots of things crammed into an impossibly small space, giving one the idea that you were just one bad move away from having everything crash down upon you at once. Strange corners that seemed bigger if you were interested in what was there but smaller if you weren’t. All manner of things like that. It was the shopkeeper, standing vacantly behind his sales desk at the back of the shop, however, that made the whole thing that much odder.

The shopkeeper wore what could only be described as an abomination of an outfit, every possible color and pattern smashed into one eyesore of a look. Meredith couldn’t quite figure out if he had a look that he were going for and failing abysmally at or succeeding wildly, but it wasn’t something that any sane person, magical or not, would ever attempt.

“May I help you?” asked the shopkeeper, his blank face suddenly shifting into a smile that was just a little too wide and had a few too many teeth.

“Yes, we’re looking to purchase a couple of wands?” said Meredith, trying very hard to look at the shopkeeper in the eyes, which somehow seemed to keep shifting while at the same time stayed the same bland color, though she couldn’t recall what that bland color was if she looked away.

“Each or for the pair of you?” asked the shopkeeper, the grin staying on throughout.

“One each, thank you,” said Meredith, glancing at Tom who was, at the moment, distracted by another set of books.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. I make wands from anything with even an ounce of power, so you can have a wand for any need you may think of,” said the shopkeeper, bouncing on his heels.

“So you would be …” began Meredith.

“Thistledown, yes, and it’s just Thistledown, before you ask,” said Thistledown, giving her a flourishing bow, his own wand flashing out into his hand for what she assumed was extra flair.

“I suppose I should tell you that we’re not magical. We’re,” and Meredith paused, looking around as if an Auror, a word they’d grown familiar with thanks to Felicity’s sister, could spring out at them at any moment, “Muggles. We need wands to seem unintrusive.”

“Ah! Well, a wand would do that for you, that’s certain. Magic could do the job better, though. What do you think? Make a little deal and get a flair for magic? Eh? You seem as if you’d be rather dashing with charms,” said Thistledown, and suddenly he was right next to next to her, sizing her up. “Or perhaps transfigurations? No, charms for sure. And you, sir, seem rather taken by my potion books. Wrote those ages ago after a deal with a muggle doctor, you’d love them.”

“You wrote these?” asked Tom, looking up at last from the books.

“Not all at once, but yes. What do you think? Not a thing like this comes your way often,’ said Thistledown, waggling his eyebrows at them.

Meredith took a step back. “Just the wands, please.”

“Are you sure? An immediate bit of magic could be nice, no sense in waiting. You don’t want to … no?” he said as Meredith shook her head. “Very well then. I suppose I could just ask which wand you like the best from my dead wand rack,” and he gestured to a wall of pristine wands, each more whimsical than the last. “But let’s do this properly. Ollivander style. Follow me,” and then he was back at his desk again, and he disappeared through a set of curtains behind it.

“Come on, Tom, let’s get this over with,” said Meredith, growing more reluctant at their choice as time went on.

Tom set down the book he’d been looking over and smiled. “Indeed! Onwards, to magic!”

The room behind the curtain was full of long, thin boxes on shelves upon shelves. They were put into mind of Ollivander’s shop, but something was off about it. There was a darkness around the boxes, not quite in sight but unsettling regardless.

Thistledown grinned at Meredith and Tom, who was still a little distracted, and began to take down a wand box when suddenly they heard the front door open.

“Thistledown. The muggles. Release them,” said a rasping voice from beyond the curtain. It had the same pulled out quality that James, doorman of the Werewolf’s Howl, possessed, but this one was feminine.

Thistledown scowled, his grin leaving his face for the first time. “They came of their own volition, Miss Sara, I have no binding upon them,” he said to the voice.

“Then you will not mind guiding them out to me here before you give them something they will regret later,” said Sara. It was not a request.

Thistledown’s face screwed up into what was almost rage, then the grin returned. “But of course. It would seem,” he said, turning to Meredith and Tom, “that I am not meant to pass wands to you two today. Let me show you out.”

Tom almost protested, but Meredith’s hand shot to his and squeezed. “Thank you for your time, Thistledown, it was lovely to meet you,” said Meredith, smiling at him.

Thistledown laughed. “I’m sure. Miss Sara, the muggles,” said Thistledown, presenting them with another flourish of his wand once they were out in the front of his shop.

Sara glared at Thistledown, her milky white eyes full of anger. She gave Meredith and Tom a smile, then took them by the arms and guided them over to the Werewolf’s Howl.

James was not attending to the door this time, but there was still a sense that they’d passed over a kind of threshold when the entered. The place was large and empty without the crowd, and there was a sense of waiting and expectation. Meredith noticed little sigils and circles carved into the stone dance floor, and the free and wholesome feel that had been there when they first went began to fade.

“You should not have gone into Thistledown’s shop. You might have made a mistake. You might have already made one. Thistledown is not to be trusted. His word is true but twisted,” said Sara, going behind the bar and pouring them each a drink. “This should help. On the house.”

“What do you mean? He seemed a little odd, but not malevolent,” asked Tom, taking a sip of the drink she’d poured him. It wasn’t a wizarding beer, but it was good, although he couldn’t quite place it.

“He is of Wild Magic. He is not bound by wizarding law, though he respects it when it suits him. It would not have suited him with you two today,” said Sara, turning to clean the bar.

“Sara, did you ever get hold of those, oh, hello,” said Ashton Plotz, coming down a set of stairs behind the stage that the band had been playing on before. “I didn’t realize that we were open already.”

“We are not. They are my guests. I saw them enter Thistledown’s shop and fetched them out, as they are Miss Felicity’s. He was attempting to sell them magic,” said Sara, her voice never breaking or stopping for air.

Ashton’s face changed in an instant. “Ah! Well done then. That was very foolish of you both. Did he give you anything? Tell you anything? You didn’t make a bargain with him, did you?” asked Ashton, apperating across the room onto the barstool next to Tom.

“He asked me if I wanted immediate magic, but that’s all. I didn’t agree to anything. Neither of us did,” said Meredith.

“Did you look at anything? Even knowledge could be considered a bargain if he wanted to twist things up,” said Ashton.

“I may have looked through a potions book of his. Saw an interesting spell about something called an Animagus, whatever that is,” said Tom, focusing very hard on his drink.

“Ah. Yes. Well, I’d not go back if I were you two. He’s no good unless you’re … desperate. There are far less shady secondhand shops than his. Borgin and Burke’s, for one. They’re practically prefects compared to him. What were you looking for?” asked Ashton, the words flowing forth like water from his lips.

“Wands. We don’t want to stand out, and we thought that each of us having a wand might help,” said Meredith and Tom nodded.

“Oh, wands? If it’s wands you need, I can help you there. I think I have a couple I won in duels I could do to part with. They don’t like me anyway,” said Ashton. He apperated away and in a flash was back with a pair of wands. “We’ll need to do this traditional style, muggle versus wizard. So, I want each of you to punch me square in the nose. A real good slug should do the trick. They’d like that. I’ll hold the wands, and you two come at me and take them. That should work.”

Ashton moved to the center of the circles and sigils in the middle of the dance floor, and Tom and Meredith followed after.

They circled around Ashton, who held the two wands at the ready. Ashton didn’t seem willing to give them an inch, so Tom tackled into him from the side and began to punch. They weren’t good punches, but a wand went flying and Tom grabbed at it.

Ashton tried to get to his feet, but Meredith kicked him in the groin and the second wand went flying, and she went after that one, clutching it tightly once she’d fetched it.

The wands felt odd in their hands. Tingling. Like static about to shoot off, but with nowhere to go. They each waved their wand about a few times, but nothing came of it.

“I said a punch each. That meant two at most. Not a few punches and a kick, Sara why didn’t you help,” said Ashton as he got back to his feet. “I hope you have a healing thing prepared.”

“Because it was funnier this way. I am not a robot. I am myself,” said Sara, smirking at him and setting a glass filled with some manner of viscous red liquid inside it on the bartop and a couple small pills.

“What kind of wands are they? What are they made of and such?” asked Meredith, turning her new wand over in her hand. She liked how it felt.

Ashton shrugged. “Bugger if I know. Wandstuff, I suppose. Wood, I would assume.” He took the pills, downed the red liquid and grimaced. “Merlin’s beard, but I do hate this stuff. Sara, I don’t know why you think ibuprofen will help.”

“I am only adequate at healing potions. The ibuprofen helps them along,” said Sara.

“Bah. Muggle sorceries, I say. Are you two coming tonight?” asked Ashton, his eyes now bright.

“I think so, but I don’t know what we’re coming to, other than that it’s here,” said Tom, waving his own wand about to no effect.

“Splendid! You’re in for a treat. I mean, you might be in for a treat, if you like mysteries and not knowing who your partner is,” said Ashton, winking at them. “If not, there’s always the dance floor.”

“Partner?” asked Meredith.

“It is a party of sorts,” said Sara. “A swap. A fun swap.”

“Oh? Oh!” said Meredith, and she blushed. “That kind of party. It’s been ages. But it could be fun.”

“A party?” asked Tom, still lost.

“I’ll explain at home,” said Meredith, giving him a kiss. “Sara, thank you for saving us and thank you Ashton for the wands.”

Sara nodded and Ashton bowed, and home they went.


	15. The Swap Meet

“I can’t believe she’s already getting into fights,” said Meredith, throwing the letter from Professor Snape down onto the coffee table and slumping back into the space between Tom and Felicity on their couch.

“What was she fighting about?” asked Felicity, snuggling into Meredith. The  _ Monster Book of Monsters _ leapt into her lap and Felicity began to stroke it. It had mellowed out ever since they’d started feeding it philosophy books. 

“The only thing she ever fights about. Someone said something cruel about Hermione,” said Meredith, taking a drink from her wine glass.

They’d decided to have a bit of a meal before heading out and had invited Felicity over to freshen up with them. Sultry surprises could be fun, but planning things together beforehand was handy when it came to figuring out who was sleeping where.

“It’s not only Hermione. Sometimes it’s a different friend,” said Tom, and he began to frown. Helena flew over to him and hooted a couple times, and she began to get pettins as well. “Or at least, it’s someone who’s the target of bullying. Rosalina can have trouble making friends.”

Felicity looked at Tom, eyes wide, and she stopped petting  _ The Monster Book of Monsters _ for a moment. “She seemed like a little social butterfly when we met, I can’t imagine she’d have trouble at Hogwarts.”

“She’ll be fine most of the time, but she can slip into a funk and drive everyone but Hermione away. I worry about her,” said Tom, scratching Helena on top of her head.

Felicity cleared her throat and began to pet  _ The Monster Book of Monsters _ again. It purred. “What spell did she use? Snape never seemed to be one to just write home about a fight.”

Tom and Meredith stared at her for a moment, then shuddered.

“It hadn’t even occurred to me that she might use magic,” said Tom, and Meredith nodded, then stopped and stared forward into the fireplace.

“Oh god, she can use magic, can’t she?” said Meredith, and Tom paled.

“I didn’t even consider that she can use magic now,” said Tom, sitting up on the couch.

Now it was Felicity’s turn to stare. “Wait, did she just use her fists? No wonder he wrote home to you. Maybe he thinks you can get her to stop somehow.”

“What would we even do to stop her? It’s not like we could shout at her via note,” said Meredith, relaxing back into the couch.

“Well, you sort of could. There’s a kind of letter called a ‘Howler’ that’s more or less you shouting into a charmed letter, and they get your shouting once they open the letter,” said Felicity.

“You know, I’m not really angry with her. Just frustrated that she won’t use logic, or reason, or things like that,” said Meredith.

“We could send her music. Like, something she’d really be embarrassed by,” said Tom, a cheshire grin spreading across his face as he began to pet Helena once again. “We should send her ‘We Are the Champions,’ and end it with us saying that we won’t send our rendition of it again if she doesn’t get into trouble.”

“That would get the message across. Could we do that?” asked Meredith, turning to Felicity, who was staring at the pair of them slack jawed.

“I … I don’t know. I’ve never heard of sending music via Howler, but maybe people just don’t do that. I know that you have to be angry properly cast the charm, but beyond that, I’m not sure. We could figure it out,” said Felicity.

“Not tonight, though. Tonight, we go to the swap!” said Meredith, hugging Felicity and Tom. Felicity gave  _ The Monster Book of Monsters _ a final pet and then set it onto the arm of the couch. Helena hooted once more and flew off to her perch.

Their outfits weren’t complex, but since Felicity and Meredith were helping each other get dressed this time they continued to become distracted by each other so it took longer than it might otherwise have taken.

Tom, for his part, threw together the same simple setup he had worn before and mixed the three of them some drinks, more than happy to let Felicity and Meredith explore each other without him.

“Felicity, Meredith, if we want to enjoy the swap in all it’s glory we’ll need to head out sooner than later,” said Tom after a while, holding the trio of glasses he’d poured.

Felicity pulled her shirt down and Meredith pulled on her panties, and each gave the other a last kiss before they went out to Tom, who gave them their drinks.

“To a fine night!” said Tom, raising his glas high.

“To the unforgettable!” said Meredith, raising her glass in turn.

“To unbelievably fun sex!’ said Felicity, raising her own glass.

They laughed, then imbibed and left for the Werewolf’s Howl via the fireplace.

\-----

“I’d’ve thought that it would take us right inside,” said Tom as they exited via a set of stone pillars just outside the Werewolf’s Howl, near the door where James stood guard.

“Ashton like for people travelling by Floo powder or apparition to still have to go past James,” said Felicity, brushing the dust from the fireplace off her outfit. “Hullo James!”

James looked up at them and nodded. “Tom. Meredith. Miss Felicity. Welcome. I trust you are here for tonight’s special event? Ashton would be very pleased to have you join him.”

Felicity laughed. “I bet he would, that old fox. Yes, that’s what we’re here for.”

James nodded, and with a wave of his hand, another section of the wall opened up beside him leading to what seemed to be a much different location than the one they’d entered through last time.

“Before you enter, there are rules. Consent must be obeyed by all parties, there shall be no drama, and do not be unsettling. And tonight there are to be no outside magics, so you will leave your wands with the attendant. Do you agree?” asked James.

Meredith, Tom, and Felicity all nodded, so James stepped to the side of the newly created door and smiled at them.

“Enjoy your evening,” he said, and they passed through, the door sealing up behind them as they walked.

The attendant wasn’t Sara, to their surprise. Rather, it was an older witch who stood behind a table filled with domino masks, capes, and different kinds of potions. Behind the witch was a rack of wands, each labeled in its own box.

“Welcome to Swap Night. I’m Anita van Dyke and I’ll be tending your nonculanary needs tonight. Wands please,” said Anita, placing three little boxes onto the table in front of them.

“Why isn’t there to be any outside magics?” asked Meredith as she placed her own wand into a box. Her name scrawled itself onto the box, and it leapt up to join the others behind Anita.

Anita shrugged. “He has special guests that he doesn’t want to feel left out, apparently, so no wands. I do have a variety of potions and, shall we say, special products for the evening, so you shouldn’t need a wand in any case.”

“That seems fair,” said Tom, setting his own wand into a box. Felicity grumbled a bit, but put her wand into a box after Tom.

Anita then set out a trio of vials in front of them, each one full of a glowing green liquid. “You’ll need to drink these as well. They’ll keep you safe from any unwanted surprises that may occur as the evening goes on.”

Felicity didn’t hesitate, downing the offered vial in a single go.

“Surprises?” asked Tom, picking up one of the vials and looking into it.

“The nine month kind of surprise, I suspect,” said Meredith, drinking one of the vials as well.

“And the uncomfortable itching kind. It’s a blended potion,” said Anita.

“Well, bottoms up, then!” said Tom, swigging his own vial down.

“And that takes care of that! Enjoy your evening, and again, if you do have any special needs or requests feel free to come by,” said Anita with a smile.

The space was cozy, almost surprisingly so. There was abundance of couches and soft walls, and a warm glow illuminated the space. It was still rather dark, but more so that people could walk in the shadows that enhanced the desirability of the attendees rather than to hide who was here.

About half the witches and wizards there were still wearing the clothes that Tom and Meredith assumed they arrived in. The other half were in varying states of undress and were very much getting their rocks off.

“Lot of ladies here tonight. I guess Ashton has his preferences,” said Tom, looking around.

“Ashton’s kind of a dudder in this particular department. I blame Sara,” said Felicity, a faint grin on her face as she looked around at the crowd. “Not that I’m objecting, of course.”

“Do you think she’ll be joining us tonight?” asked Tom. He’d never really thought of Sara that way before, but the idea of her arranging this little get together would have been beyond him as well until Felicity mentioned it.

Felicity nearly doubled over with laughter. “I well and truly doubt it. She’s, well, um, well let’s just say that I don’t think she’d be very interested in anyone here.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that someone who was ace could throw together a swap meet like this. Learn something new every day,” said Meredith.

“Well, you don’t have to be interested in sexing people up to be able to mix and match people with good chemistry,” said Tom with a shrug.

Before Felicity could respond, Ashton came up behind them and threw his arms around Tom and Meredith’s shoulers, a huge grin plastered onto his face.

“Ah, my wonderful guests! Welcome to Swap Night! Delightful, isn’t it? Sara has outdone herself once again,” said Ashton, looking around. “Yes, Sara …”

“Put this all together, Felicity told us,’ said Meredith, and Ashton looked like he’d had some of the wind taken out from his sails.

“Well, she did. And I thank her for it. Miss Felicity, my dear, how are you feeling tonight?” asked Ashton, moving over to Felicity in a flash.

She laughed and wiggled away from him. “Not  _ that _ good, you old letcher. I think I’ll stick to people with less stamina tonight.”

“You strike me to the core, my love. My very heart you have torn asunder, my pride in tatters,” said Tom, clutching his heart and putting on a swoon.

“I wouldn’t,” began Meredith, trailing off and blushing furiously.

Tom grinned and bumped her hip. “The polite thing to do is finish your sentences, my dear.” Meredith began to mumble and so Tom leaned in.

“I wouldn’t mind someone with stamina tonight,” said Meredith, loud at last, and Tom laughed as she punched him in the arm and blushed deeper still.

“Well, we have quite the variety available for you tonight, Miss Meredith. A true pick of the litter! Please, do explore and, above all, enjoy yourself. This is your night, after all. Toodles!” said Ashton, and with that he was gone, vanished back into the crowd.

Tom, Meredith and Felicity took to Ashton’s advice like fish to water. Meredith reveled in the attention lavished on her by men and women alike, while Felicity had fun socializing with those same men and women. To Tom’s eyes, it was as if it was all one big, happy, hidden community, hidden even from wizarding kind.

He found that he wasn’t particularly guided towards any one woman other than Meredith and Felicity, but he was more than happy to watch them enjoy themselves get fucked silly on a king sized bed while he sat on a fine leather loveseat against one of the walls

It was after they’d been going at it with a couple of strapping young wizards for what was the third or fourth time when he decided to go and get some refreshments for the four lovers on the bed. When he came back, he found that the couch was now occupied by Ashton and rather fetching dark haired woman.

She was wearing one of the little domino masks that Anita had had on her table, and it must have been enchanted because, while he could see that she was lovely, he couldn’t make out any of her specific features. When Ashton saw him, he said something to the woman and went over to him.

“This is …” began Ashton, trailing off and glancing to the woman.

“Nissa,” said the woman.

“This is Nissa, and it’s her first time here as well. I thought that you three could, shall we say, help her out, since you all seem to be fitting in with everyone rather well. Get her into the lay of the land. I’ve showed her around, but she needs a guru,” said Ashton, patting Tom’s shoulder before going out to the rest of the swap.

“Well, hello. I’m Tom. I don’t know who the gentlemen are, but that’s are my wife Meredith,” with a gesture to her, “and that’s Felicity, a, well, a friend,” said Tom, holding the refreshments up so that Meredith could see them while she was on the bed.

She smiled at him, then patted her partner and the four of them maneuvered their way out of the bed and took the refreshments from him. Felicity and the two wizards looked exhausted, but Meredith was practically beaming.

“See anything you like?” asked Meredith with the flair of a game show host as she presented everyone.

Nissa’s eyes glanced to Tom, but she shook her head. “I’ve never been able to, um, well I’ve never been able to,” and Nissa trailed off. “Well, only I’ve been able to satisfy myself. I’m not sure you can help me.”

Meredith’s eyes went wide and she was by Nissa’s side on the couch in a flash. “You poor dear. Have you just had a string of bad luck with men, or is it not men that excite you?” asked Meredith, winking at Nissa.

Nissa’s eyes went wide and a tint of red appeared on her checks. “No, I’ve only ever been with one man. He’s been very wonderful, but he doesn’t understand sometimes.”

Meredith and Tom exchanged glances, then Meredith cleared her throat. “Well, that’s your problem then. You need to be able to communicate. Let him know what you need. Tom, come here,” said Meredith, and Tom went and knelt in front of his wife, who spread her legs and smiled at her husband.

Tom smiled in turn and began to follow Meredith’s directions. This wasn’t so much for his benefit as it was for Nissa’s, as Tom knew very well what his wife did and didn’t like.

“If you’ll look, he’s spelling the alphabet with his, oh god, with his tongue. That way you get a variety of choices and when he finds a letter I like, he can do that. His fingernails are also trimmed short, so he can use his fingers as well,” said Meredith, running her hands through Tom’s hair.

Meredith ran Tom through his paces, but after she orgasmed a couple times she turned to Nissa and smiled. “Really, the best thing you can do is practice. I’m sure that Tom would be more than happy to be a guinea pig for whatever you need,” said Meredith, pulling up Tom and giving him a peck on the lips.

“I’m game if you are,” said Tom to Nissa, who blushed, nodded, and spread her legs.

Nissa was quiet at first, so Tom started with the basics and stayed there, waiting to hear from her. He was sure that he know how to get her motor going, but she needed to get used to telling her partner what to do.

Nissa seemed to pick up on that as well. “The alphabet thing, do that, and I’ll tell you what letter to stop on,” said Nissa, running her hands through his hair like Meredith had.

Tom started with ‘A’ and got down to ‘F’ before Nissa started to writhe and pull him closer.

“Use, um, use your fingers,” said Nissa, and Tom began to work them in and out, and she seemed to almost melt.

“There! Right there! Oh, Morgana, don’t stop,” said Nissa, and she began to shiver in a familiar way. She clenched her legs tight around his head, then relaxed with a smile.

“Well?” asked Tom, still kneeling in front of her.

“That was amazing. I didn’t think someone else could make me feel that way,” said Nissa, leaning back into the couch.

“I can keep going, if you like,” said Tom, spreading her legs further.

Nissa nodded and down Tom went. She screamed, she moaned, she pulled at his hair, and all the while Felicity and Meredith were cheering them on as Nissa directed him. Eventually, though, this wasn’t enough for her, and she pulled him up, eyes level with his now.

“I need you,” whispered Nissa as she fiddled with his member and soon Tom was inside of her and she was screaming again. By the time that Tom was done, they were both sweating and they’d gained quite an audience.

“Refreshments, my dears?” asked Ashton, offering them a plate loaded with drinks and food. Tom and Nissa pulled apart and Nissa gave Tom a big hug.

“Thank you for that! Morgana’s lips, I’ve never felt that way during sex,” said Nissa, holding him tight for a few moments before letting him go.

“I’m glad I could help,” said Tom, and they relaxed and began to socialize, getting more comfortable with each other before the next round began.

“That was amazing. I didn’t think someone else could make me feel that way,” said Nissa, leaning back into the couch.

“I can keep going, if you like,” said Tom, spreading her legs further.

Nissa nodded and down Tom went. She screamed, she moaned, she pulled at his hair, and all the while Felicity and Meredith were cheering them on as Nissa directed him. Eventually, though, this wasn’t enough for her, and she pulled him up, eyes level with his now.

“I need you,” whispered Nissa as she fiddled with his member and soon Tom was inside of her and she was screaming again. By the time that Tom was done, they were both sweating and they’d gained quite an audience.

“Refreshments, my dears?” asked Ashton, offering them a plate loaded with drinks and food. Tom and Nissa pulled apart and Nissa gave Tom a big hug.

“Thank you for that! Morgana’s lips, I’ve never felt that way during sex,” said Nissa, holding him tight for a few moments before letting him go.

“I’m glad I could help,” said Tom, and they relaxed and began to socialize, getting more comfortable with each other before the next round began.


	16. Flying Lessons (Hogwarts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Christmas Miracle! A new chapter! Enjoy, everyone

The next week was eventful, to be sure. Rosalina got her first howler, for one, and it was from her parents. If they had just been yelling at her, then it would have been awkward, but fine. It’s not like she’d done anything really wrong. But that’s not what it was.

“I didn’t know you could sing into a Howler,” said Neville, staring at the Howler even as it burst into flame.

“Wicked. What song was that?” asked Fred, a stupid grin filling his face.

“‘We Will Rock You.’ It’s by an old muggle band called Queen,” said Hermione, just as red faced as Rosalina.

“I wonder how they did it. It could be fun to send to someone else,” said Fred, his grin growing.

“Oh, Jesus,” said Rosalina, putting her head into her hands.

The whole table went silent.

“What? Did I say … oh,” said Rosalina, and she watched as the words _Please Don’t Use My Name That Way. Thanks! -_ _Yeshua ben Yosef v’ Miriam_ inscribed themselves into the table in front of her. There hadn’t been a trace of magic or spellcasting in the air; they had simply begun to form there.

“That’s why we use Merlin’s name,” said Professor McGonagall, appearing behind Rosalina in a flash. “The divine tend to take things like their names very personally  when it comes to witches and wizards .”

“Mr Filch had mentioned it, I just forgot,” said Rosalina, not looking Professor McGonagall in the eyes.

“Please remember in the future, then, Ms Granger,” said Professor McGonagall, going back to the teacher’s table at the front of the great hall.

“I bet you could get that bit of table pulled up if you ask Professor McGonagall politely,” said George after another moment of silence, and with that the whole table began to talk once again.

“You could frame it! I mean, it’s signed and everything. Practically an autograph, that is,” said Fred.

“Mr Filch is going to kill me. I ruined his table,” said Rosalina, sinking down into her chair and putting her head into her arms.

“I mean, technically you weren’t the one who ruined it,” said Ron between bites from down the table, scarfing into another plate of food. “The divine did that.”

“Yeah, but he warned me and I said Jee, I mean, said the divine’s name anyway,” said Rosalina, not looking up.

“Nothing you can do now, Rosa. What’s done is done,” said Hermione, nudging Rosalina.

“Maybe your parents could send you a Remembrall, too!” said Neville, holding aloft the Remembrall his gran had sent him. It was supposed to help him remember things, but nobody was quite sure how well that would work if it only told him that he forgot something without a hint as to what the thing was.

Crabbe and Draco had come over to take a look at it as well, and everyone at the table, including Crabbe, was astonished when it didn’t light up in his hand when he picked it up. Draco, on the other hand, had had several reminders of things and he rushed off after he gave it back to Neville.

“Forget about the divine, we finally get to get up on broomsticks today!” said Seamus Finnigan, another first year Gryffindor. The Gryffindors from wizarding families all grinned at each other while the muggleborns collectively gulped.

All of the first years had been abuzz about flying lessons. Draco had been bragging to anyone who would listen that he’d been a flying expert for years, and even Ron had a few stories about his close encounters with muggle authorities. Crabbe and Neville had no such tales to tell, although Rosalina got the feeling that they weren’t comfortable with the idea of being on a broom, no matter how many times Draco and Ron said that they were perfectly safe.

As such, classes seemed to go on forever that day, no matter how simple the assignments the teachers gave were. 

When the moment finally came, Hermione and Rosalina were surprised to see how few of the first years had come out, and it wasn’t bent one way or the other. There seemed to be an even number of first years from wizarding and muggle families. Crabbe had come out, although Rosalina was sure that was mostly Draco’s doing, but so had Neville, who seemed to be even more skittish around brooms than Crabbe.

“Come on, we haven’t got all day! Everyone stand by a broom,” said Madam Hooch, Hogwarts’ official flight master.

The whole group of them went and found brooms, and there was a sense that these brooms had been used by many students before them and would be used by many students after. Everyone tried to find a good broom, but the important thing seemed to be going near friends or people you wanted to impress. Crabbe and Neville, to everyone’s surprise, found brooms next to each other, each giving the other a nervous nod as they approached that which they feared most.

“Now, I want each of you to say ‘Up’ and the broom should leap into your hand,” said Madam Hooch. Everyone said ‘Up’ together, and of all of them, only Harry and Draco had their brooms leap into their hands on the first go. Ron and a few others got theirs on the second try. Hermione’s just sort of rolled over, while Neville and Crabbe’s brooms each seemed to sink lower into the grass. Rosalina’s broom didn’t move an iota.

“Think of the broom as an extension of yourself. Imagine it as part of your magic; let your magic flow into it,” said Madam Hooch.

Hermione focused on her broom and when she said ‘Up’ once more, it leapt into her hands. It took Rosalina a couple more tries to get hers correct, but in then end it leapt into her hands as well. Neville got his shortly after Rosalina did.

“I still can’t get it,” said Crabbe, glaring at his broom like that would make it go faster.

“Just think of it like your wand, like in Ollivander’s,” said Neville, and in moments Crabbe had his broom in hand as well and he gave Neville a big toothy smile.

Madam Hooch gave each of the students tips on how they were mounting onto their brooms, generally correcting people until they met her expectations of how one was able to fly. The general trend was that the students from wizarding families (that had been permitted or willing to fly) had got it wrong, whereas the students from muggle families got it right faster because they had no idea how to mount up and so listened better.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Madam Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —”

But Neville, more nervous than he’d let on, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch’s lips.

“Come back, boy!” she shouted, but he was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle — twelve feet — twenty feet. Everyone on the ground saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and —

WHAM — a thud and a nasty crack and he lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

“Broken wrist,” muttered Madam Hooch. “Come on, boy — it’s all right, up you get,” and she turned to the rest of the class. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.”

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Pansy burst into laughter.

“Did you see his face, the great lump?” said Pansy and some of the other Slytherins joined in, Goyle loudest among them. Most, however, were as shocked as each of the Gryffindors had been. They’d spoken with Neville, since he’d come over to eat with them at their table a few times, and while he was bumbling, he was mostly seen as harmless.

“Shut up, Pansy,” snapped Parvati. 

“I hope he’s alright,” said Crabbe before Pansy could say anything else, looking after where they’d gone into the castle. “Bad start to flying, that.”

Pansy smirked at Parvati for a moment, then grinned and dashed over to where Neville had been.

“Look, it’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him,” said Pansy. In a flash, Crabbe had moved over to her and taken it from her hands.

“That’s Neville’s, that is. You shouldn’t be messing about with other people’s stuff like that,” said Crabbe. The color drained from his face as he realized what he’d just done, and he began to stammer. “I mean, cause, well, it’s not nice to mess with other people’s stuff, that is …”

“Here, I’ll hold onto it for now, if that helps,” said Hermione, going over to Crabbe, and he gave it to her in a shot, shooting her a grin that flickered onto and off of his face as soon as it had come.

Draco, for his part, said nothing during this encounter, and he seemed as unsure of himself as Crabbe had been.

“I can’t wait to get into the air, me. I’d love to show you all how proper flying is done,” said Draco after a while, and Harry rolled his eyes and gripped his broom tighter. Ron took a step forward, then back again, closer to Harry now.

“What do you mean, proper flying?” said Rosalina, glaring at Pansy all the while.

“I mean, well, you know, proper flying. Not on accident, like Neville did, although it’s really unfortunate that he fell and I’m glad he just broke his wrist. Could have been a lot worse,” said Draco, the words flowing out like water.

“Right on. Fall like that could have killed him, if he’d landed wrong,” said Harry, relaxing his grip on his broom. He seemed just as surprised as everyone else was that he’d agreed with Draco.

“You’re not helping,” said Crabbe, his face now as white as Neville’s had been, and everyone went quiet.

About twenty minutes later, Neville and Madam Hooch walked back out onto the field, and Neville was carrying another broom in his hand. He was also twisting his wrist around like he’d never seen it before.

“Right. Now, everyone mount up and when I blow this whistle, not before,” and Madam Hooch glared at Neville for a moment, “You’ll push up gently into the air, hover a bit, then land. That’s all.”

And with a blow of her whistle, everyone on the field was in the air, Neville included. No one went too high off the ground, which was a little dull at first, but soon Madam Hooch had the whole group flying in large circles around the field and everyone was screaming with delight.

There were a few natural fliers among the first years, Harry and Draco shining  brightest. Draco was no big surprise to anyone, but Harry seemed a bit shocked. He’d come from as miserable a muggle home as anyone and so he seemed really pleased that he’d found something he could just do well at.

It was only after a few of the staff members came out that everyone’s sense of wonder diminished. There were Professors Crawley and Magnus, two of the associate Charms teachers, Professor Fenwick, an associate Potions teacher, and a woman that Hermione and Rosalina had seen, but had never spoken with. She was a young woman with pure white eyes. She seemed rather stiff.

“It’s an  Inferius!” shouted Draco, falling off his broom and scampering to the far end of the field, away from the teachers. “Madam Hooch, there’s an Inferius with the teachers!”

“What? Where? What are you talking about?” asked Madam Hooch, glancing over to the teachers, who looked at each other and shrugged.

“He might mean me,” said the white eyed woman, and Madam Hooch nodded.

“Oh, yes, didn’t even think of you. Yes, that’s Ms Sara. She helps Professor Plotz with Ghoul Studies; he can be rather forgetful at times,” said Madam Hooch.

Ms Sara gave Draco a little wave, and he went white.

“But she’s an Inferius!” said Draco, unable to look away.

Now the other students had begun to back away as well, and they were beginning to mutter among themselves.

“Among other things, yes. Look, it’s not like I’m going to eat you,” said Ms Sara, and the teachers chuckled.

“Mount up, Mr Malfoy, and start doing laps again or I’ll give you a detention for being rude to a teacher,” said Madam Hooch, smiling in a way that suggested she was only half joking.

Draco got back on his broom and began to fly around once more. Crabbe, Draco, and some of the other Slytherin students began to fly a bit further away from the teachers. Harry, Ron, and the Gryffindors, meanwhile, began to fly closer and closer to them until Madam Hooch blew her whistle and scolded them for treating Ms Sara like a zoo animal, and they rejoined everyone else.

_ Do you think that she’ll let us talk to her? _ hissed Rosalina, flying in close to Hermione.

_ About what? _ hissed Hermione, wobbling a bit as she tried to control her broom.

_ You know, about being an Inferius, _ hissed Rosalina.  _ I’ve read about them in history books, but she’s right here at Hogwarts! I want to know what it’s like. _

_ If she’s still over there after the lesson, I’m sure she’ll take all the questions we have _ , hissed Hermione, and her broom wobbled even more.


	17. The Living, the Dead, and the Unaffiliated

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought of myself as undead, certainly,” said Ms Sara to the crowd of the first years around her, Hermione and Rosalina at the front of them all. Her voice was a bit raspy, but no more than an aunt or uncle who’d smoked their whole lives. It was kind of nice, soothing even, in an odd sort of way.

After Hermione and Rosalina started to ask her questions in the field, Ms Sara had decided to move to the great hall so that everyone could follow and at least pretend to be able to hear her, if they wanted to listen. A few older students lingered at the back of the group, but most of the staff and students rolled their eyes as everyone pelted her with questions.

“So, have you always been smart, or have you just been alive, I mean dead, I mean, well, around, for a long time?” asked Seamus. Everyone had decided to learn as much as they could about Inferi once they’d learned the truth of Ms Sara.

“I’m biologically nineteen year old and have been animate for an additional nineteen years. I’ve been aware of myself for almost that entire time, barring when I was a simple corpse,” said Ms Sara.

“How long were you a corpse?” asked Rosalina, leaning in.

“Rosalina!” shouted Hermione, but Ms Sara just laughed.

“It’s alright. I was a corpse for less than hour, according to the person who raised me and gave me my mind back, and I trust them,” said Ms Sara.

“Why do you trust them? Doesn’t it take Dark Magic to create an Inferi, not that you’re evil, or dark, or anything like that,” asked Hermione, blushing.

“Why would they lie? What point would it serve? Besides, they raised me in the dead of winter, so it’s not like they had reason to kill me. I was living on the streets before I died in any case,” said Ms Sara in a way more akin to explaining that you’d moved from one part of town to another rather than that you’d once been homeless and alive.

“You’re homeless?” asked Crabbe from the back of the crowd, as if the idea of a homeless member of the wizarding world was incomprehensible.

“I was. Now I’m not,” said Ms Sara, and this seemed to sit better with Crabbe.

“Sara, where is my wand? I had it last night, I know I did, and now it’s gone,” said Professor Plotz, an older man with salt and pepper hair who wore fashionable clothes that seemed altogether out of place at Hogwarts, though he was wearing a robe on top of them all.

Ms Sara sighed, which was remarkable because they’d learned that she didn’t need to breathe. “Have you checked your wand pocket? The one in your robe?”

““I’ve checked all my pockets, and my bag, and it’s not there. Wait, oh, well would you look at that. There it is. Thank you Sara!” said Professor Plotz, and he tottered off as quickly as he’d come.

“I’d better get after him, or he’ll forget that he has to teach a class today next. It has been lovely answering your questions and I do hope that I’ve put you at ease,” said Ms Sara, getting up at last.

There was a small chorus of groans, but no one protested that she stay.

“She seems pleasant enough,” said Harry. Pansy, who’d been lurking near the edge of the crowd, laughed.

“That’s what she wants you to think, then she comes to eat you when you least expect it!” said Pansy. Then she shrieked at Neville, who screamed, and she laughed.

“I think that if she was going to eat us she wouldn’t be capable of outsmarting a teacher,” said Seamus, looking after her as she walked away.

“It’s not like he seemed very competent anyway, so I don’t know why that makes her clever,” said Pansy with a huff.

Most of the Slytherins, though, seemed to be wondering how Professor Plotz had pulled her off without being sent away to Azkaban, the wizard prison. She’d never said it was him that made her, but who else could it be? He was the Ghoul Studies teacher, and she was his assistant. It seemed obvious.

“That’s quite enough of that. Go back to your dorms, the lot of you,” said Mr Filch, walking into the great hall with a sort of odd looking saw. Most of the first years broke up and began to walk away, but Rosalina smiled and ran over to Mr Filch.

“Mr Filch, I have a question for you, if you’re not too busy,” said Rosalina, earning her more than a few stares from the other students. Nobody talked to Mr Filch on purpose.

“I’m always busy, but ask anyway, if you like,” said Mr Filch, moving over to the Gryffindor table where Jesus had left his mark.

“Do you have any advice for painting miniatures? Like, little model people?” asked Rosalina, walking beside him.

Mr Filch stopped and stared at her. “What do you mean, miniatures? What are you on about?”

“There’s a game I’d like to play, only it needs miniature figurines and tiny fighters and warriors and such. The book I have gives a few pointers for enchanting the colors onto them, but I feel like it would be much more fun to paint them myself,” said Rosalina.

This earned her a very, very faint smile from Mr Filch. “A fine thought. I need to peel up a message from the divine first, though. Your doing, I’m told?” said Mr Filch, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

Rosalina looked away. “I, I’d forgotten what you said. I’m sorry,” she said.

Mr Filch sighed, then took a deep breath. “Just … don’t do it again, if you can help it. But yes, I think that if you come down to my workshop this evening after dinner, I could give you a few pointers.”

“Thank you, Mr Filch!” said Rosalina, and she gave him a hug before she ran back over to Hermione, Crabbe, Ron and Harry.

They were staring at her like she’d just eating a live goldfish.

“What?” asked Rosalina, looking around at them.

“You gave Mr Filch a hug. Why did you give Mr Filch a hug? He’s … he’s Mr Filch,” asked Ron, moving out of sight of Mr Filch when he looked over at them.

“Because he’s helping me. He’s been very nice, I don’t know why everyone seems so afraid of him,” said Rosalina.

Harry shook his head. “He must save all his niceness for you, then, because he seems to enjoy being nasty to everyone else.”

“I thought that he only knew how to glare at people,” said Crabbe, and Ron snorted.

“He’s been nothing but nice to me,” said Rosalina, crossing her arms and looking to Hermione, who looked down and away.

It wasn’t but a few moments later that everyone jumped backwards, and Rosalina looked up to find that Mr Filch had manifested next to them.

“This is for you. Little reminder,” said Mr Filch, handing her the piece of table. He had scraped up but the barest portion of it, just enough to get the message and a bit of backing but not so much as to really mar the table beyond any sort of magical repair.

“Thank you Mr Filch,” said Rosaline, smiling at him in a way that only hinted at the frown that lurked at the edge of her mouth.

“You’re very welcome. Don’t do it again,” said Mr Filch, and he was off.

“See‽ He would have had my hide for that, if I’d done it,” said Ron, moving next to Rosalina to take a better look at the message. “Doesn’t look like he writes very well, does he?”

Harry, Hermione, Rosalina and Crabbe all stopped and stared at Ron for a moment, whose face turned to a pale white as soon as he realized what he’d just said about whom.

“Not that it’s bad! I mean, my handwriting is atrocious, it’s really good once you think about it, honest,” said Ron, looking around the great hall. Only when it was clear that no further letters would take shape did Ron relax.

The rest of the day was rather dull after that, although Ron jumped at every spark and shift in the air, as if the Divine might suddenly change their mind about what Ron said and send him a letter after all.

When evening came, Rosalina went down to Mr Filch’s shop and found that he was sitting in front of a massive painting. It was unmoving and brilliant.

“What is that you’re working on?” asked Rosalina as she stepped closer to take a gander at the painting that she realized Mr Filch had been painting.

Mr Filch looked up at her with a start and began to cover it over, then smiled and uncovered it instead.

“I like to tinker around on my own when I get a moment. This is one of my latest projects,” he said, and he took a step back.

It took her a moment, but Rosalina’s eyes went wide once she realized what she was looking at.

“Is that  _ The Hobbit _ ?” asked Rosalina.

“It is. A favorite of mine. I’ve tried to read  _ The Lord of the Rings _ , but it can slog in places.  _ The Hobbit _ , though, that’s always a fun read. I’ve taken a few liberties, but I’m happy with how it’s turning out,” said Mr Filch.

The painting was of Smaug, flying out over Laketown, with Bard at a tower, arrow drawn, and the Lonely Mountain in the distance being guarded by the Bilbo and the Dwarves.

“Will you enchant it after you finish it? Could I watch if you do? I keep asking everyone how the other paintings here move but people keep giving me the runaround,” asked Rosalina, moving up next to him.

“I will not be enchanting it. I … don’t have the knack for it,” said Mr Filch, looking rather harder at the painting now.

“Well, it looks wonderful as it is in any case. I feel like Smaug is really flying out at me,” said Rosalina.

“Thank you. Now, you said something about painting miniatures?” said Mr Filch, and for the next couple of hours Rosalina and Mr Filch practiced painting little chessmen, each of which had been crafted with exquisite detail. They didn’t move, though, which threw Rosalina off but she didn’t ask about this. Wizard Chess wasn’t for everyone.

When it got to be late enough, Mr Filch sent Rosalina off to bed, and she spent the rest of the night reading her copy of the Dungeonmaster’s Guide until her eyes couldn’t stay open anymore.


	18. The Game (Hogwarts)

“And it’s called Dungeons and Dragons,” said Rosalina over breakfast Saturday morning, setting the various rulebooks out in front of her. Felicity, their friend from the bookshop, had sent the rest of them up to Hogwarts by way of Helena when Rosalina had asked about them (“Just have fun and let me know how it goes!”).

“Looks like a load of homework, to me,” said Ron, flipping through the Player’s Handbook at the Gryffindor table.

“That’s because it was written by a spellmaker. Look, it’s really quite easy,” said Rosalina.

“Nope. Anything that requires this much learning might as well just be classwork. Come on, Harry, let’s go play wizard chess,” said Ron, getting up from the table.

“Sorry, Rosalina. Maybe when I understand what it is you’re trying to say,” said Harry, shrugging before he followed after Ron.

“I’ve got a load of reading to do, so I don’t think I can join you either,” said Hermione, getting up rather faster than Ron and Harry had and dashing to the Gryffindor tower.

“Can I be a wizard in this game? Like, for real?” asked Crabbe from behind her, and Rosalina nearly jumped out of her seat. She hadn’t known he was there.

“What do you mean, for real?” asked Rosalina, turning to look at Crabbe. She hadn’t asked him if he was interested because this hadn’t seemed to be the kind of thing he’d like.

“I mean, can I be a wizard? Like, call myself a wizard and not have people snicker about it. I know they do here,” said Crabbe, his voice soft now.

“Crabbe you are,” began Rosalina, then she stopped and took a deep breath. “Yes, but you need to know that there a lot of rules to being a wizard in the game that make it different from how it actually is in the real world.”

“Right. Cause it’s a game. Got to make things fair,” said Crabbe, and he sat down at the table where Hermione had been.

Neville, who’d also been listening, scooted over. “Being a rogue sounds fun. I’d like to be able to not worry about messing up all the time,” he said, rubbing at his arm where Madam Pomfrey had healed it.

“I want to be a barbarian. That sounds fun,” said Daphne, sitting down where Ron had been sitting before.

“I didn’t know that so many people had been listening,” said Rosalina, blushing a bit. Finley, curled up around her neck, snuggled in closer.

“You were being pretty loud. It was hard not to hear you,” said Daphne.

“I hadn’t realized,” said Rosalina, and for a moment she caught Professor Dumbledore’s eye at the staff table while he was midbite. He paused, winked at her, then went back to eating.

“You mentioned something about holy magic, too?” said a girl from Hufflepuff, and Rosalina went redder still.

“Did everyone hear me?” asked Rosalina and she wanted to sink into the floor.

The Hufflepuff girl shrugged. “Everyone interested, I suppose. Wait, you’re the Gryffindor who got the message, aren’t you? The message from the Divine?” said the Hufflepuff girl, leaning in.

“I’m in Slytherin, actually, and yes. And yes, there is holy magic in-game, but I don’t think it’s anything like what it might be with real gods, I mean, the Divine,” said Rosalina.

“And there are gods in the game? Like, pretend gods?” asked the Hufflepuff girl, sitting down next to Daphne. “I’m in. My name's Heidi, by the way. Heidi Macavoy”

“Wonderful! I’m Rosalina Granger. That’s a full party, too. I’ve got some plans for the first game, but in the meantime we can make up your characters,” said Rosalina, smiling.

They spent the next few hours creating characters and reading through the various source books for inspiration.

There were nerves, to be certain, but Crabbe seemed to get the hang of it after a while and Neville, to Rosalina’s delight, even helped him with some of the bigger, stranger words. Heidi and Daphne intuited what was needed with little prompting, for the most part.

“So, six of the six-sided ones for each score?” asked Crabbe, brows creased.

“Four for each score, then drop the lowest dice and add up the remaining numbers in the set. It says to roll six sets, but I think that rolling seven times and dropping the lowest set of four make it more fun,” said Rosalina.

“Oh I didn’t do that for my scores. Is it too late to reroll them?” asked Daphne, holding a pencil just over the page as she went down and filled in the numbers. Rosalina had figured that pencils would serve them better here, and Mr Potts had seemed more than happy to provide them when he learned their intended use.

“You’re fine! Just do it in front of me again, and remember that you’d be rolling your scores twice and taking the better set, so if you get a bad number here I’d not worry too much about it just yet,” said Rosalina, putting down her copy of the Dungeonmaster's Guide.

Nobody got a fantastic set of scores, but Crabbe managed an eighteen, which went straight into his intelligence. He was actually the only one who managed an eighteen, so everyone was both very proud and envious of him.

It wound up taking nearly the rest of the day to finish up creating their characters, considering that she'd forgotten about the coded runeforms that they had to use to match their eventual miniatures up with their character sheets.

“When will we be able to start playing?” asked Crabbe, clutching his pencil as he looked up from the rune guide.

“Well, I still need to get the miniatures finished up so that you can get your characters bound to them, but that shouldn’t take more than a couple weeks,” said Rosalina.

“I’ve got a set of Chessmen that we could use. They don’t like me anyway, so it’s not like I’d need to worry about setting them off,” said Crabbe.

“We’d have to worry about their conflicting rules, though. The magics described in Mr Gygax’s book seem like they’d be very finicky if they got mixed up with Wizard Chess and I don’t want to have our first battle ruined because of a bad magical reaction,” said Heidi.

“We could work together on getting them ready, if you don’t mind our helping you. I want to get going as soon as we can. It doesn’t seem that hard to charms colors, if Mr Gygax’s guide is right,” said Daphne, leaning in.

“I’d hoped to paint them with Mr Filch, is the thing. I thought that would be more fun. I hadn’t expected you all to be so interested right away, to be honest, though I’m really glad you are!” said Rosalina, shifting in her seat as Neville, Crabbe and Heidi each gave her an odd look.

“Right on. I can wait, if that’s how you want to do it, although I would like to paint my own miniature, if you’re willing to do the monsters and such,” said Daphne with a nod, not looking surprised at all.

“Oh, yeah, no, that’s fine. I can wait. How long do you think it’ll be?” asked Heidi after a moment’s pause.

“Maybe two weeks?” said Rosalina, looking at each of them.

“Sounds great! We could do it in the evening, so that you can do your special muggle lessons and such,” said Neville, and Crabbe nodded along with him.

“Splendid! Two weeks from now, we game. You’re going to love it, I promise!” said Rosalina, grinning.


End file.
